Goldenhand
by ab sab
Summary: This fanfic picks up right where Nix left off in Abhorsen. What will Sam do now that he has discovered his Wallmaker inheritance? And what about Lirael? New twists and turns are always happening in the Old Kingdom, and that's not likely to stop. Completed
1. A journey begun

A/N Ok finally got this chapter's punctuation problem fixed.

DISCLAIMER: This disclaimer is for the entire story. Much as I would like to I do not nor ever will own Garth Nix's work.

Chapter 1  
A Journey Begun

Nick was still very weak, and it had taken nearly all his strength to stand. He firmly resolved in his mind that he would stay standing as long as he possibly could, or at least long enough for the others to reach him. But even as he watched, two of the six supporters of Lirael faltered, then stopped in their tracks. He could just barely make out which two it was. It was the dark-skinned, blonde ones, the ones who appeared to be twins. Soon the others stopped as well. Nick let out an audible groan. He had to reach the group, and soon. That much he knew for certain. The real question was how he would get there. The only idea that struck him was childish, and barely possible, but it might work. After hesitating for a couple seconds, he knew it had to be done, that this was the only way for him to reach Lirael and the others. Nick slowly laid himself down again and started to prop himself up on one elbow. It was hard work, but he soon managed to turn over to the point at which gravity took over his amazingly emaciated body and began to roll it down the hillside.

Ryelle felt it first, the slight odd feeling that always preceded one of the Clayr's Sights. Sanar was not far behind. Quietly they left the small group and stood off to the side, so as not to interrupt anyone while they were having their vision. The world around them blurred, then became invisible as they were caught up in the Sight. They saw Lirael, the young man they recalled as Nick, and Sam in a place that could only be the Abhorsen's house. There were many sendings standing around watching something, obviously with wonder and amazement. A bright light filled the room, nearly blinding the two. Then their normal vision returned, and the Sight was lost. The other five, including Lirael, were staring at them, expecting to hear what they had Seen. But just as the twins were about to explain, they noticed a small shape coming quickly towards them from the direction of the hill. Sam soon recognized this shape as Nick, and ran off to help him. Once they returned, Nick leaning heavily on Sam as they inched along, Sanar and Ryelle described their Sight. At the end they added, "You three must go to the Abhorsen's house immediately, so that was has been Seen will become what has happened." It was soon settled that all would go to the Abhorsen's house to catch up on some much needed food and rest, then each would return to their homes, leaving Sam, Lirael, and Nick at the house.

The sendings had apparently learned of these plans before they arrived, and the seven, or eight, including Mogget, who had allowed himself to be rebound, though it was yet to be sealed with a bell, walked into a house especially prepared for a celebration. There was a freshly filled hot bath in every bedroom, and the dining room table was laden with the best food the sendings could provide. All but Mogget immediately chose a room an d eased into their bath in hopes of relaxing strained muscles and joints. A short while later, they gathered in the dining room for dinner. It was delicious, although Lirael had some difficulty in her attempts to eat with her left hand. Nick noticed his, and suggested, "Sam, with that magic of yours, do you think you could make a new hand for Lirael?"

"Yes, but it would take a while to finish, not to mention that we would need a very sturdy substance, to make it out of," replied Sam. "But still, it would probably take me days, maybe even weeks."

"But you're a Wallmaker!" argued Lirael, throwing herself into the discussion. "You proved that when you made Nehima into the sword that broke Orannis."

"Well, I was planning to make you a new hand in the near future, but I was also hoping that I might be able to create a new suit of gethre, in case one is ever needed. I don't think I can work on both at the same time, but which one would you have me construct first?"

"Well I really would like to have the use of my hand back as soon as possible, after all, there are still many of the dead running around. I'm not much for ringing bells with my left hand, and Charter forbid i should have to ring two at once!"

After some intervention from the King and Abhorsen, it was agreed that Sam would construct the gethre first, or at least work on it until a suit able material was found for Lirael's new hand.

For the rest of the night, the group separated to do what each would please. The next day, after all had enjoyed a good night's sleep, everyone went their separate ways, wether it was to the palace, the Clayr's glacier, or to simply remain in the house. Sabriel, however, insisted on riding through the borderlands on horseback to quell any dead that may still be lingering from Hedge's plans.

Lirael, Nick, and Sam had each woken up with mixed feelings of anticipation and fear in their hearts. There was a fair chance that Sanar and Ryelle had seen something wonderful, but it could also have been something terrible.

"Well," said Lirael, "we might as well get down to it."

They decided to use the same room for two projects, both Sam's creation of a new suit of gethre, and Lirael teaching nick the fundamentals of Charter magic. Ever since finding out about his late baptism from the Dog, Nick had been especially curious and eager to learn about the Charter and its magic. Lirael and Nick would be separated from Sam by a curtain as thick as a carpet, so that Sam wouldn't be distracted in his work. As soon as the curtain was pulled across, Sam emptied his mind and began dredging up marks. He had known the first several he thought of for a long time, then came a few he knew from the making of what was once Nehima. But before a minute was over, every mark that came to his mind was unknown to him, by shape, name, and function. But even so, they just kept coming, revealing themselves to the world since the last suit of gethre had been created by the fourteenth abhorsen centuries ago.

On the other side of the curtain, Lirael had spent the last quarter hour teaching Nick the history of the Charter and what it was. Finally, Lirael had been able to teach Nick a simple spell; the calling of a Charter light. From across the curtain, there was a sudden flash, then a stream of golden light poured out, casting Sam's shadow on the curtain. Lirael knew the making of the gethre had begun at last. Then there was a brighter yet burst of light from behind her.

"I-I only said just what you did!" stumbled Nick. "what happened?" "What did I do wrong?"

Sam wasn't far behind with his questions. As soon as the light had become brighter than the charter spell that was coming from his fingers and mouth, he had lost concentration and rushed to pull back the curtain. As he did, Sam saw the largest, brightest Charter light he had ever seen. He could sense that the light had been called using the normal spell, meaning that the one who cast it must have possessed immense power in the Charter.

"Youcast it, Nick?"

"Yes, I did, but why is mine so much larger than Lirael's?" Nick pointed to an average sized light hovering about Lirael's shoulders.

"What happened was the vision," said Lirael, who had finally overcome her amazement, "As for why, perhaps the Clayr will be able to tell us."

"You don't mean to say that we're going for another ride in one of those unstable winged things, do you?" inquired Nick. "Even after learning about the Charter, I still don't like flying in a Paperwing."

"Well you'll just have to get over that because we're certainly not going to walk there," Lirael stated flatly.

As they climbed the steps from the library to the paperwing, they came to a horrible realization: only two of them would be able to leave in the sole remaining paperwing. It was concluded that Nick and Lirael would go to the Glacier, as it was Lirael's original home and Nick had been the one to cast the light. Sam would stay behind, and, once more, attempt to create the gethre.

However, as the paperwing took off with Lirael and nick, who was complaining and worrying until Sam couldn't hear him because of the distance, he ran down the stairs to one of the storerooms and proceeded to look for a lump of gold.


	2. An Unfinished Adventure

At the Clayr's glacier, everyone was buzzing with excitement. Sanar and Ryelle had returned just late last night, and, being very tired, had gone to bed straight away. Now, it was seven in the morning and the other Clayr were preparing a surprise party for them. The twins had returned so late that they were still asleep, even though they were usual the first ones to awake in the glacier. The glacier was still dripping from Orannis' second manifestation. Although the burning of land and the melting of rocks had only affected the nine miles surrounding the silver hemispheres, the heat wave from it had spread far and wide. As they tripped over buckets that were catching water seeping through the limestone, they brought various articles, including several that hadn't been used in so long that they were stored deep within the Library of the Clayr. With all the 1799 members of the Clayr old enough to fetch and carry objects doing so, materials for the feast were coming in more quickly than they could be cooked. The feast was to contain every food known to the Clayr, including massive quantities of Sanar and Ryelle's favorite, truffles. Before the feast was quite finished, a young girl came from where she had been on watch for any visitors to the Glacier.

"Lirael's back! She's finally returned!"

Everyone quickly stopped what they were doing and quickly set down the plates they were carrying on the dining tables on their way to the Starmount stair. Those who were agile enough to run up the stairs did, while those who weren't made their way up the stairs quickly while trying to avoid being trampled by the herd of younger Clayr.

After searching the entire storeroom, which seemed to be much larger than it was the last time he had been inside it, Sam had finally managed to find a small lump of gold in a corner of the workshop. If he used it just right, it would be enough to make Lirael's new hand with. He hoped to finish the hand before she and Nick returned, which would probably be sometime in the next two days. As he walked up the stairs to the study, Sam was already filling his head with the necessary marks to give the hand motion according to the will of its master. Placing his foot on the top step, he recognized the familiar yet dominating touch that told him he would need not only the mark, but the music of Saraneth to continue the spell any farther. But how he could get one of the Saraneth bells when one set was wandering the borderlands with his mother, and the other with Lirael was beyond him.

"If you were wise," came a sardonic voice from under the table, "you would realize that the touch of the sword made with the panpipes would be enough to bind the gold to her will."

Sam sighed. " Sadly, that is another thing we have yet to deal with. The hemispheres lie unburied with the sword and her hand between them, open and vulnerable to any force. In any case, I don't have time to get there and back before Lirael does, and I want to have the hand ready when she returns."

"Well, if you don't think you can handle it, I might be able to do it; at least I might be able to if I had some kind of incentive." On might, he jumped from the floor to the stool, then up to the top of the table, where he proceeded to clean his paws.

"I'm sure the sendings will prepare a dinner full of fish to celebrate your return, Mogget," replied Sam. A nearby sending enthusiastically nodded its pale head in agreement.

" Then I suppose I might as well be on my way," returned Mogget as he leaped down from the table and headed towards the stairs. "We cats are much faster than you humans, so I'll be back before dawn tomorrow." At that point, he leaped down the stairs and headed out the door.

Lirael jumped out of the paper wing, glad to have returned to her home. Nick quickly followed suit, just as glad to be back on the ground. While unpacking the few things they had brought, Lirael thought she noticed a fleeting image out of the corner of her eye. As they headed toward the stairs they were met by a surging mass of blonde hair, dark skinned woman and girls.

"Who are these people?" Nick shouted over the clamor.

"This is the Clayr, my family!" replied Lirael joyously.

At that point the crowd engulfed them and everyone seemed to have a question.

"Where have you been?"

"What did you do?"

"Who is that?"

These were just the few questions that Lirael could make out among myriad welcomes. For once, Lirael was glad when her Aunt Kirrith clapped her hands on Lirael's shoulders and steered her towards the Starmount stair through the crowd, shielding her from the roiling mass of Clayr and questions.

"She will answer your questions when we are all warm and safe inside the glacier," boomed Kirrith so that she could be heard even above the crowd. Lirael was surprised by how loud she was, as Lirael had barely heard her since beginning work in the library.

Everyone heartily agreed, as no one had cause to grab coats or scarves in the rush. Before too long all the Clayr were gathered in the dining hall, including Sanar and Ryelle, who had woken to the sound of other Clayr running up the stairs and shouting above theirs heads. They had expected a battle, and scarcely paused to dress before dashing into the hall, spells at their fingertips. A passing cousin, however, told them of the true situation. Of course, once all the Clayr were gathered, they continued to asked Lirael questions between every bite of the feast. Kirrith, hearing the number of questions being asked, and seeing the flustered expression on Lirael's face, came to the front of the hall, bringing Lirael, Sanar, and Ryelle with her.

"Hush now, hush now! Everything will be told by these three shortly." Kirrith shouted as loudly as she could while still using her favorite, falsely jolly tone.

As Lirael related the events she had been through up to the time when everyone had arrived to break and bind Orannis, she gazed about the area, remembering the many adventures she had had here. It seemed like it had all happened years ago, though it had been less than a month since she had embarked on her voyage with Finder. Before she realized it, the twins were assisting her in telling of the breaking of Orannis, and the loss of her hand.

At last, the flow of questions had ceased, and Lirael and Nick were able to ask their question.

"As most of you have probably guessed or Seen, we're not here merely for a visit. The vision Sanar and Ryelle described to you Has occurred, whether it may be for good or ill. The blinding light they witnessed came from a simple Charter light that Nick cast. "We wish to know what could cause someone so completely inexperienced and new to magic of any kind to cast such an unusually powerful spell."

"Of that we do not know, but you might find records of such in the Library," replied one ancient Clayr who looked as though she would be sent to a dreaming room someday soon. "Didn't you used to work there?"

That was one of the things she had remembered about the Glacier while relating her story. The endless stairs with unimaginable numbers of doors that she had once explored with the Disreputable Dog. No, she thought, it wasn't the Dog, it was Kibeth, the Shiner for which one of the bells in her bandolier stood. Kibeth who she had explored so many hallways with. Kibeth... Her thoughts were suddenly shattered as a harsh voice from her past cut through the temporary silence. After a moment, she realized it was her former boss, the Chief Librarian speaking.

"You cannot return to the Library!" she said, "not even to search for such useful information. The Stilken you once bound has broken its wards and is free again!"


	3. In Halls Long and Lands Destroyed

In Halls Long and Lands Destroyed

This news came with a shock to Lirael and the crowd. How could the Chief know about the Stilken? And, moreover, how could the Chief know that _she_ had bound it? Surely the Dog hadn't woken the librarian and told her? However, she was the _Disreputable _Dog, and who knows what that might mean?

"When you returned Binder, you neglected to retrieve the 'just in case' note left in my chambers. It was placed under Nehima's stand, and I didn't notice it until a few days ago. Such forgetting is a poor quality for a librarian, but in this case I'm glad you did. If you hadn't, we would never have known what killed poor Ness."

The Chief went on about how Ness had ignored the rules about only going into the old levels in groups and eventually came to the sunburst door which she entered. Lirael heard no more after that. Images of the Stilken and Ness chased each other through her mind for what seemed like hours, but it was only seconds later when the true realization hit home. Surely even the highly corrosive Free Magic that the Stilken was made of couldn't have penetrated such a Charter spell as she had laid upon the silver bottle so quickly? Besides that, Ness was barely a competent Charter mage. She probably wouldn't be able to break the spell Lirael had cast on the door. let alone free the Stilken from its prison within the bottle. Then the last piece of memory from that horrible night slipped into place. Right before she had retrieved the book _In the Skin of a Lyon_, she had slipped the bottle into the pocket of her waistcoat. Unless it had fallen out while she slept, the bottle and Stilken it contained would be at the Abhorsen's house.

"...Really though, you should have mentioned in the note that Stilkens can burn you so badly. When we found her, Ness had singed off her eyebrows and lashes along with half her hair. We couldn't bear to move her body, for it was still too hot to touch."

It was then that Lirael knew she must speak. No matter what panic might ensue, the truth of the matter had to be told. She related the memory to the crowd, ending with an offer to check the entirety of both rooms for the troublesome bottle. Though she strongly doubted it would be found, and was concerned about the description of the body, Lirael led Nick down the long corridors to the Library.

"So," said Nick as they traversed down the endless spiral around which the Library was based. "Are you really as old as you claim? You don't look twenty-three, let alone thirty-five. "

"No, not really," replied Lirael. "I only said that because I didn't want to enter into anything, as seemed to be the true question when Sameth asked me that. But now, since he knows that I'm his aunt, I suppose I can admit it. I'm actually only nineteen."

"Oh," he sighed. With one word, he seemed to have withdrawn himself from any type of conversation.

Normally, Lirael would have been glad to not have to speak, but she truly hoped she hadn't offended him.

Before exiting the house, Mogget paused to find a small jacket. He would have to become a dwarf if he was to carry the sword back to Sameth, and it would be nearly winter in Ancelstierre. The only coat that was anywhere close to his size was Lirael's old waistcoat that she had traded in for the black of an Abhorsen. Mogget scowled, looking distastefully at the tiny hole scattered like dust across its surface. It would have to do, he decided. As he left the house, he transformed back to his usual cat shape, and along with his body the Waistcoat shrank until it fit lightly around his torso. It would grow back to its usual size when he next became the dwarf. Until then, it would be keeping him slightly warmer than necessary.

Mogget ran swiftly to Ancelstierre, far faster than any normal cat could have possibly achieved. He paused only to catch a fish from the occasional stream, for he sensed that his mistress-in-waiting would need her hand soon. When he finally crossed the wall into Ancelstierre, it was still early evening in the Old Kingdom, but in Ancelstierre it was the middle of the night. Mogget continued his dash down to Forwin Mill and the demolished lightning farm, and there saw what he was to retrieve.

In truth, it was a sword no more, but a strange lump of slightly glowing metal. The luminescence had probably served to scare off any who had wished to explore the area, or take the metal. It was guarded by the hand as well, for who would dare go near such an obvious omen of death? Illuminated by the faint light, the hand was truly ominous. As Mogget became the albino, he felt that it would only be right to take the hand back with the sword. He bent over, reaching for the sword with one hand, the badly burnt appendage with the other.

With a loud crack and an explosion that tore the waistcoat to shreds, the Stilken escaped from its silver prison!

**A/N** Yes, it's slightly annoying to have nearly the same ending on two consecutive chapters, but it has to be done for a later part. Sorry for the long wait on this update!


	4. A Battle of Free Magic

Mogget did the first thing that came to his mind. Mogget, as a cat once more, ran. He dashed along the ground as quickly as a white streak of lightning, until his collar became entangled in a large dead bush. The collar, decayed from the exposure to Free Magic, and not yet sealed with a bell, tore from the strain. Mogget continued his mad dash for a moment, but no longer. In that fraction of a second, Mogget was once again transformed into his raw shape of Yrael, eighth of the nine bright shiners.

The Stilken, having seen the being of immense power before it, slowly backed away. Yrael moved faster, and in one smooth motion absorbed the Stilken's essence into himself. Exhausted from the momentary battle, and still at war with the spirit inside him, lay down to rest.   
What could he do? In this elemental form, he would barely be able to touch the metal. The Charter magic in it would combat the Free Magic Yrael produced too strongly to grip for more than a second. Perhaps for now he would just stay here, rest a while longer while his head stopped spinning.

Though Mogget had no wish to harm the Abhorsen or her family at the moment, and the fish dinner awaiting him was very tempting, the spirit of the Stilken inside him was still strong... And it wanted revenge. Revenge, against the girl who had bound it, and the bloodline of Charter who had done so before that. The Stilken found some dark corner of Mogget's heart, where the desire to annihilate all living Abhorsens still raged, and the two merged. An overpowering will fed on the rest of Yrael, even to his very thoughts, where he was attempting to conceal the locations of Sabriel and Lirael. But the small part of Mogget left to resist could not hold out for long, and the Stilken soon knew.

Mogget ran in hopes of reaching the House, or better yet, the Clayr's Glacier. If only his will to move could hold out long enough to warn the family, perhaps... Fast as Yrael moved, he was only eight miles north of the wall when The Stilken took over control of Yrael's muscles as well as most of his mind. The only area Yrael was not forced to surrender was his speech, for it was strange to the Stilken, and it did not dare invade that section of the being's mind.

The Stilken, in its new-found power and knowledge and power, raced off to Belisaere. It knew that two hours would be required to travel that far, and it longed for revenge. This longing gave it speed beyond reason, and before the night was upon it, the Stilken had reached the Abhorsen's house.

It knew that there was one of them inside. Even without the knowledge of that which was called Yrael, it could sense the blood in the house. It wasn't the blood of an Abhorsen, that was certain. But what the Stilken sensed was better yet. A wallmaker, that was the status of he who had first imprisoned him. And wallmaker, too, was inside that house.

The Stilken charged, its brain infused with a plot , now not only for revenge, but for the opportunity for a particularly savory meal as well. For the blood of a Charter mag was delicious, and this one was very strong indeed. It never saw the river till it was too late, and the Stilken tumbled in with an ear-shattering shriek.

The Stilken raged against the mighty Ratterlin with all its strength, but the river seemed to rush all the faster as it did so. Within a minute, the Ratterlin had dragged the Stilken away from the House and to the brink of the cliff.

Mogget didn't know what was happening. The Stilken's spirit was screaming, so something bad must have been happening to it. To him, he realized. But along with being frightened, the Stilken was distracted. this could be Mogget's one chance to regain control. He concentrated all his power on ridding himself of the Stilken. It started out very well. Mogget had already gained control of most of his body before the Stilken even noticed.

He gazed about, trying to see what was causing the Stilken such distress. The river! It burned and bound his spirit-flesh as he continued to thrash about. It was then that the Ratterlin took its steep and deadly fall down the cliff.

Mogget knew only one way to survive the drop and rocks below. It was still dangerous, for if even one piece was shattered... It was now or never, or rather, now or die. Mogget forced both his and the Stilken's spirits to separate into a thousand tiny pieces. Seconds later, there was a blue-tinted haze about the bottom of the cataract.

†††

Sabriel had been riding for days, traversing the borderlands to quell masses of dead that had been wandering aimlessly since Orannis's binding. Now, at last, she could return to her family. As she rode by the waterfall she though about just how splendid it looked this time of year. The base of it was wreathed in a halo of mist, hiding the jagged rocks that jutted out of the river's white surface. But, she thought, better to be getting on towards home than staring idly at water falling off a remarkably large bit of rock.

†††

As the water frothed and fell around him, Mogget tried to pull himself back together. He knew that he had been extremely fortunate, and that all of his spirit-stuff had stayed intact. The Stilken would still occupy part of his being when he got himself back to normal, but at least he would be in control.

After regaining his shape, Yrael spied something in the distance moving towards the house. A horse, perhaps, or possibly.…. The horse turned, and Mogget could see that there was someone on its back. Sabriel! She always wore the silver ring of binding on her finger. If only he could reach her, she would bind him, therefore separating himself and the Stilken. With one mighty lurch he threw himself out of the river.

"Sabriel!" he called out. "Sabriel, I'm behind you!" He rushed towards her, but she rode on without pausing. Within seconds, she was crossing the first of the jumping-stones.

Mogget knew that even he could not cross such a river, as the Stilken had been reminded of so shortly before. His only hope now was Lirael in the Clayr's glacier, whom Sabriel had entrusted her second ring to. It was a great expanse of land to cross, but he could be there within an hour or two if the Stilken stayed quiet.

†††

With everyone else out of the house, it had been eerily quiet. But, this provided the perfect opportunity for Sam to finish the creation of the gethre. His only distraction would be hunger, and he had learned to ignore that long ago.

Surprisingly, it had taken less than an hour to fill his head with the marks . He had suspected that it would take much longer, but then his work had already been halfway completed. He had still had to spend the previous five hours completing a suit of slightly magical clay to cast the hardening charms on, though.

He was somewhat concerned that Mogget hadn't returned by now, but that was fine for him. At least he wouldn't have to listen to any cat-calls from under the table.

Sameth could feel the sheer power of the marks as they flew from his head to mouth and fingers, then finally down to the ceramic suit at his feet. Just as haran, the last mark, jumped to the newly-made gethre, Sam heard the soft _snick _of a closing door. He cast one sidelong glance at his completed work and ran downstairs.

A/N For anyone who may be wondering, its just Sabriel at the door. Might be good to know considering we won't see either of them for about 6 years.


	5. Warnings

**A/N I'm so sorry about the long wait for this chapter! Right before I typed it up, my spacebar died! So, **I **had to wait until the new keyboard arrived before this could be typed. For those of you who have been oh so patient, here's an extra long chapter.**

At last, Lirael and Nick reached the door of sunburst.

"Nick," Lirael warned. "should you see any strange creatures, scream as loudly as you can and run till your legs fail you. Should you stop to so much as look at any of the beasts in this chamber, you will be killed mercilessly."

"Surely it cannot be so bad the the slightest second's glance would doom me?"

"I assure you Nick," intoned Lirael, her voice reflecting many previous experiences with such beasts, "it can."

††††

Miraculously keeping control of himself throughout the entire journey, Mogget had reached the Clayr's glacier. 'Now,' he thought. 'all there is left to do is the crossing of the bridge.' Since the Clayr had actually though to provide a decent bridge instead of just a few stones in the river, he should be able to cross. The first three bridges went as easily as Mogget had anticipated, but as he passed the threshold of the fourth, a great column of fire in the shape of two women rose up and proclaimed " You shall not pass this trestle!"

"Should have known they'd have one of those lousy door greeters," he grumbled. "I suppose I'll have to find another way."

Crestfallen and rather singed, Mogget wandered over the ice, trying to recall the back way to gain access to the glacier's interior. Allowing his eyes to glance over the ground, he noticed a small crack in the ice. Tightening his focus on the crevice, he could make out a large area of caves far below. It would seem that this was the alternate path he had discovered so long ago. The Clayr had been lazy, not sealing it, though they knew what sorts of things could so easily pass through such a gap. Still, he should be grateful that the top of the Great Rift was uncovered, else he would never have gained passage. Below lay hundreds of dead Clayr, each in a cave dug out of the cliff. "Well, its not as though I'm going to find a less morbid route to take, " said Mogget to what appeared to be only himself. But far beneath the ice, in one of the hundreds of caves rested an ancient spirit, and she heard.

She came to the entrance of her cave, and peered upwards to where the sound had come from. There, she spied the entwined spirits, and knew that at least one was that of a Stilken. This Stilken must have joined with something far wiser to know of the Rift, though. She must follow this creature until it left the Glacier. Who knew what havoc something like this could wreak? As it squeezed through the crack in the ice, the being lay in wait, preparing herself for the upcoming chase. This was a particularly powerful spirit, and precautions would have to be taken.

Mogget rushed through the rift with incredible speed. He didn't know exactly where this entrance led to, but it let out somewhere in the Old Levels of the Great Library. There it was, another tiny crevice in the endless glacier that surrounded the Clayr's chosen home. Or not so tiny, Mogget thought as he traversed its length. The crack was truly a tiny tunnel, and was much longer than it outward appearance had led him to believe. It took him a couple minutes to traverse its length, and by the time he came flooding out the other side, the spirit was nearly upon him. Mogget, however, had yet to notice. He raced through the old levels, eager to find Lirael and be freed from the Stilken's spirit mingling with his own. As he passed one of the hundreds of doors, he heard a trace of sound from behind it, and stopped. Entering the room, he saw the best thing he could have hoped for. There, off to the far side of the room, which was strangely full of red poppies, stood Lirael, speaking to Nick while staring intently at the ground around her.

Mogget raced over to her, giddy with the joy of being rid of the Stilken. Just as he was about to call out her name, the strange spirit glided in front of him, barring his way. " be warned,Stilken, for if you step any closer to these humans I will slay you where you stand!"

At last, Lirael stood and saw him. "Mogget, what are you doing here, and why in the Charter are you unbound?"

"I'm here to find _you, _of course," said Mogget. "My collar ripped as I ran from that trick you left in you jacket pocket. Nice of you to leave a S-"

"The Stilken is free?"

"Yes I was about to say that I consumed it into my essence, so it is here, and I advise that you separate it from me before it takes over again!"

"Of all places, you had to bring such a dangerous thing _here_? Why couldn't you find Sabriel in the borderlands, where there's not thousands of spirits for it to devour and grow stronger off of?"

"I came _here_," said Mogget, "because the Abhorsen left the borderlands and entered the Abhorsen's house, which, if you recall, happens to be surrounded by water."

"Well, since you are here, with the Stilken, I suppose I may as well- Did you hear something?"

"Lirael! Hurry, I think I found something!" Nick's voice emanated in never ending echoes from a room Lirael had hoped to never reenter.

As Lirael squeezed past the sharp points of the crescent moon, she saw the seven plinths from which the soapstone statue of the Dog had come. But now, another two plinths had appeared. On the last stood a marble figurine of a man engulfed by flames. A single cold finger was wrapped around it.

Lirael reached to loosen Ness's finger from around the statue, but when she touched the long-dead hand, it was searingly hot. "Ouch!" Lirael screamed, jerking her hand away from Ness's. Nick looked up from where he had been staring into the former librarian's eyes. They were glazed, but seemed to still witness a horror beyond imagination. Her pupils were strangely lit up, as if they burned with an inner fire, hotter than any earthly flame.

"What happened?" inquired Nick, concerned that it had been serious.

"I touched her to move her hand from the statue, and...and she burned me!" answered Lirael, still in shock from the sudden heat. "Whatever burned her must still be hot, and is heating her hand."

"Then, we shall simply remove the statue from her hand rather than her hand from the statue," advised Nick in his usual scientific misdemeanor. He bent to take the small figure, index finger curving around the man's waist, thumb already grasping it from the other side. "There," he pronounced, as the statue lifted from its stand. Nicholas set it on the floor with a definite _clink_.

Unnoticed, a tiny ember sparked at his feet where he had set it. As he rose, so did the fire, becoming a snake that twirled around his body. When the flame reached up to twist about his head, a booming laughter filled the room.

"Nick, what have you done?" she cried. The laugh had sounded the the victory cry of some long-forsaken monster, or worse.

In the last room, the pursuing spirit had heard the horrid laughter as well. But she, unlike her more mortal companions, knew exactly what it signified. She did not particularly enjoy playing the bearer of bad news, however, and was content to wait until the two returned from the next room to deliver it. It was a rather shorter wait than she would have liked, as Lirael and Nick dashed out of the chamber, pausing only to squeeze past the moon points. Though they would otherwise have fled the flowered room in seconds, the spirit easily stopped them with a single sentence.

"Wait," it said, "for I am what remains of Mosrael, and though most of the frequency and power of my foresight has passed from myself to the Clayr long ago, I have still seen events that must be known." "Lirael, in time not too far off, you will bear a child, but its life will cause you more pain than any you have known. Yet bear this child you must, for the very wold may be worse yet without it. And as for that abomination," Mosrael swung a fierce look at Mogget, "be sure to bind him as soon as possible, or he will surely kill you before long."

In a whisper quieter than the blink of an eye, Mosrael said to Nick, "Watch yourself carefully, for you will bring this upon her, though my no fault of your own. The makings of chaos have entered your blood as laughter just entered your ears, and it shall not leave as readily." With that, Mosrael was satisfied to resume her state as an unnoticed being watching the world, whether it be the present or future she saw.

'And yet, how can I cause such pain when all I mean to do is love her?'he mused. Lirael, heavily disturbed by the news, chose to speak the binding spell and leave. Rather concerned to be alone in a place where Free Magic beings might yet roam, Nick quickly followed suit. Mogget shot one surreptitious look at the room beyond the moon and walked out.

†††

Meanwhile, Touchstone wandered the palace. With no one around but the court officials and guards, it made for a boring place. Not that he longed for any adventure at the moment. The binding of Orannis had sorely tired him, and he was already aging. He feared he would not be in this world for much longer, and the kingdom would be left to Ellimere.

Ellimere.…. While she was very strong for a woman, both mentally and physically, the kingdom would want a king to rule with her. She had many admirers within Belisaere, and even more over the entire kingdom, but showed no particular interest to any. Still with any sort of luck, he would be around for another decade or two. That should be plenty long enough for his daughter to find someone whose company she truly enjoyed.


	6. Katrel

A/N Between the last chapter and this one, six years have passed. Now, on with the story!---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lirael flexed her golden hand as she studied the carnage. There had been an attempt on the king's life the previous night, one that had nearly succeeded. Touchstone still lived, but with a gash in his side and the palace in shambles. Ancient tapestries had been torn, priceless artifacts shattered in the ensuing chaos.

Worse yet, the Queen was away. She'd flown to Gardil the previous day to quell an invasion of Dead. As of now, she did not even know of the attack. A message hawk was at that very moment being sent on its flight. But in the floors below the mews, there was still much to be done.

Lirael cast a small light, the soft yellow glow illuminating the room that had been left in darkness. The attackers had been Free Magic sorcerers, but none were powerful enough with their magic to do anything more than breaking a few wards and extinguishing the charter lights. After that, they had blundered around in the void of the throne room. Some tried using physical force to accomplish their goal, but only one had come close to hitting the mark. Still, the room was devastated, as she was soon reminded of.

"Mama," a small voice came from the figure tugging at her surcoat. "This is worse than my room! does the King always live like this?"

The tiniest of grins came to her lips. Nick and she had married shortly after the incident in the Library, and now had a son, Katrel. At four years old, he was already showing signs of becoming a great charter mage. He also spoke up more than either of his parents. Before long, Lirael knew, Katrel would be walking into Death by her side. But that would be at least a year away yet,and for the present there was a throne room to restore.

Preparing a spell to begin the cleaning, Lirael looked down to an expectant face. She had thought the question rhetorical, but it looked as if the child truly wanted an answer. She broke into a true smile at the look on his face and informed him that, no, the king did not usually live in quite such a state of chaos. Her son satisfied, she continued her cleaning spree.

Halfway through the job, Nicholas joined her. Over the years, he had read his way through several volumes of Charter marks and their uses. He was now easily as good a mage as Lirael, possibly better, though she had yet to test his full abilities. Together, they finished the job in less than half the time Lirael had expected. When they looked back to find Katrel, they discovered that, as usual, he had run off somewhere on his own.

"I'll check this floor if you'll get the next," Nick offered.

†††

Katrel,on the other hand, had absolutely no intention of being found. Determined to hide from his parents for at least an hour at least an hour he had persevered the long climb to the top of one of the palace's towers, this was far from the first time Katrel had hidden him self from the rest of the world. He had found that he could imagine great places, and if he tried hard enough, actually go there. But to do this he needed complete silence. The slightest human sound could call him back to where his actual body was just right for such a purpose.

Today's adventure would be based in a place his parents were always talking about. His mom had described it as just a big, gray, dangerous place, but he was sure he could find something fun to do there. With all his mind, Katrel imagined being surrounded in gray light. he pushed forward, trying to enter what looked so clear before his eyes. A chill air hit his neck, and he flinched back instinctively. He tried again, this time taking the cold in stride, he shivered, but emerged into Death. No sooner had he taken a step away from the border than the river caught him in its trick-some current, and washed the boy downstream.

Katrel did the only thing he could think of. He screamed. Near the first gate, someone heard that cry. At first she though it was the scream of an unsuspecting woman murdered by someone she had known. But as the source of the clamor grew nearer, she recognized the voice of a young boy. Very young, she thought. Likely to have died falling out of his first climbing tree. Just when the small spirit was tipping over the edge of the waterfall, she swooped an am down and caught it by the shoulder. The child, for so it was, tried to stand, faltered, then gained his balance.

"Thank you... um, Who are you?" Katrel questioned innocently. He figured she must be a friend of his mother's, for she wore the same sort of bells.

"You may call me Millane," she replied. "If you like, I shall take you to were you belong, so long as you do me a favor in return."

By now, Katrel was terrified of the place he had forced himself into, and was willing to do just about anything to get back. He slowly nodded his assent.

"Good. I shall take you to the border, then tell you the job." Millane walked upstream, or at least what appeared to be upstream, tightly gripping the boy's arm. This was no ordinary boy. She had felt the yet undiscovered power within him the moment her spirit had first touched his. That power would not remain so for long, at least if she were to have a word in it.

As they reached the border Millane shot the boy an appraising glance. _He was so young. Surely my plans can wait just a little longer, long enough for him to gain some slight experience in the world. Yes, the final parts of my plan can wait but the seeds must be sown now. I will not have such an opportunity again. _She bent down, careful not to lose her footing. "Now then, for the favor.…"

In the palace, Sam entered his old tower workshop. The door creaked, and in Death Saraneth rang. Katrel's spirit sprang back into its physical form. He stood up, shaking himself to throw off the ice on his clothing. He realized with a start that someone else was in the room. He just couldn't let his parents find him! At least not before he was properly thawed out, anyways. Katrel spun around, searching for a place to hide himself. The wall behind him was covered in drawers, and there was a cabinet before him. The footsteps came ever closer.… Katrel picked a large drawer at the bottom of the wall and jumped in, shutting it as best he could. That still left a thin strip of light to see by, but it was not enough to make out the other items stored in the drawer.

Try as he might, Katrel was still freezing, and could not control his shaking. The drawer, and, it seemed, the whole wall rattled along with his bones. Still closer came the intruder. Katrel knew he had only seconds before discovery.… The drawer opened, and he peered up at his much older cousin.

Sam straightened and gave a hearty laugh. "You know your parents are looking for you, right?"

Katrel replied with one of his infamous smiles. They could get him out of any trouble his other features could get him into. His parents were probably worried he had gotten into something he shouldn't have...again. "Suppose I'd better go let them find me then!" he called, skipping down the stairs. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N Finally! Katrel gets to show up! Now the story truly begins.… In any case, I have one quick question for you: What is Ellimere's pet peeve? Whatever answer I can get to fit into the situation best will be used in the next chapter. It would seem that the ever-feared writer's block chose me as its next victim, and I couldn't decide what would bug her most if my life depended on it. So, reply away, and if you can slip a review in with it, all the better. Next update should be posted 2-3 days after I get an idea, whether by review or otherwise...


	7. Ellimere's Suitor

"So," said Touchstone. "Now that you see how quickly you may find yourself in the royal position, would you consider answering one of these?" He plucked one of the myriad envelopes off her desk and dangled it in front of her face.

"Fine," Ellimere sighed, swiping the letter from his hand.

A week later, she was pacing the dining room. "Honestly, where in the Charter is he!" Lords, guards, judges had all been late before, but never a suitor. Granted, the last one had come decades ago, but still! His graces with her were slipping by the second, though it seemed he would be a respectable man.

The messenger hawk sent by his...Well, she didn't really know what position they had held, the boy's accent was so heavy. Likely some sort of low-level hired help. Still the message proclaimed the Chief...Herald, she thought, to be the greatest ruler they had ever known.

A brief trumpet blast announced his belated arrival. Ellimere peered out the window, trying and failing to catch a glimpse of his entourage. Sighing, she returned to her seat by the door.

"Your Highness, I present..." Ellimere readied herself, drawing a deep breath to raise her already unusual height to its full complement. _What was that smell? The suitor must have a dog with him. I would sooner keep a wolf as a pet than something of that stench, though. Still, a good king is worth putting up with a pack of the smelliest mutts in the kingdom. _"...the Chief Hunter, Jokval." _Hunter?! What in the world?_

A large man, easily six foot two, strode into the room. His shoulders were heavily laden with furs, and a single black feather clung to his snow white cloak.

_So, my father's idea of a suitor is a barbarian hunter. No matter, it is just a couple hours after all." _

Jokval did indeed have a small collection of the kingdom's more undesirable pets. The were two flanking him to either side, as well as one behind him. All were a dark tannish color, had short ears, and were unbelievably rank. The dog closest to his right had matted fur on its muzzle, and was stained with something that looked a little too much like half-dried blood.

"Shuntai and I thought we'd bring a bit of the meal ourselves," he said, patting the questionable canine on the head. "I left it with your servant."

"I'm sure it will prove excellent." Ellimere gave a weak smile and took her seat at the table. "While the chef cooks it, have some salad." She pushed a large bowl full of the mix over to him. Without acknowledging the tongs, he stabbed a fork deep into the salad. Jokval lifted it to his nose, inhaled deeply, then ate. Apparently satisfied that it was not poisoned, or whatever he had done the sniff test for, the barbarian quickly devoured the entire bowl.

_I suppose it'll be just meat for me then. _

The next course came, and the hunter stood as it was placed on the table. _Perhaps he does have some slight idea of etiquette. _The thought was rejected as Jokval pulled out five extra chairs and a dog leaped onto each. Ellimere watched in horror as the hunter cut off a limb and set it on the table in front of each dog, presenting the head to Shuntai. Her disgust only grew as he ate the roast pig's belly as she would eat only a fowl's leg, by holding it in one hand and tearing off chunks of meat in his mouth.

At last, the princess could stand it no longer. Ellimere rose from her seat and all but kicked him out the door. She would never resort to that particular method of removal. After all, that what guards were for! Heir to the throne, she stomped up the stairs to her chambers, pausing only to give her bewildered father one very dirty look.

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**A/N As that chapter was very short filler, the next will be up sooner than usual. I'd expect it to be up Tuesday or Wednesday if all goes well. **


	8. Assassin

**A/N There might be better ways to start a chapter, but this one starts with you realizing we've just fast-forwarded ourselves four years into the future. **

Millane rode onwards, for to have any idea where she needed to be in Death, she would have to be physically close to those she wished to intercept. Nearly half a decade, and The Red Hand had done nothing. Was she the only one in that group that actually had the initiative to accomplish anything useful? No matter, everything would be done tomorrow. After this, the rest of them would have to something. It was just too good a chance to lose the temporary grip they would gain on the kingdom. If her plan worked, that is. The whole operation had been so hasty, so imperfect...Still, she could hope.

†††

Creeping up those stairs, conflicting images shot through his head. _Why am I here?_ A searing flash of white cut through his vision. "You must reach the bedchamber. Now GO!" Remnants of the voice's last word echoed through his head till it was all he knew.

A few moments later, he was again wondering just what he was doing. _Why is my hand on this doorknob? I have no good reason to go in there._

**Flash**

"Enter, slit his throat, then meet me in Death. You know where I'll be. Now get moving before I figure out just how useless you are!

His hands moved too quickly for his brain to react. The murderer entered the room and drew a dagger from his belt. The Free Magic marks infused in the steel burned with a red light that clearly showed the vein he would cut. The blade traced a quick, thin line across it, and Touchstone's lifeblood spilled over the crisp sheets. His eyes flew open, desperately trying to find the assassin. But the killer was already gone.

Sabriel woke with a start. Someone she knew was dying. Her death sense always felt different when it was someone she knew. They were physically close as well... Touchstone!

The first of his blood hit her hand as she reached for his face. His jugular vein had been sliced. Touchstone would be gone from this world in less than a minute, but she could still walk through Death's chill river by his side. She slipped into Death, quickly locating him using the strong bond they had shared in life. She pulled his spirit to its feet, and much as she would have liked to turn the other way, they walked together to the brink of the ninth gate.

†††

The assassin bolted down the stairs, dagger still clenched in his hand. Whatever happened, he could not be found out. He would go down to one of the many unused dungeons, enter Death, and there meet his mistress.

The river churned around his legs, attempting to take him under, but its convulsions had become familiar to him. How something so feeble had ever overpowered him, he did not know. Now, the water seemed almost warm, as though it was encouraging him to walk farther into its reaches. Which he did, for they were to meet at the brink of the seventh gate. He strode though the water quickly and confidently, for he had traversed all but the final precinct countless times before. No Dead dared bar his way, for they had seen long ago that his will was stronger than iron shackles. At last, he reached his destination. He bowed before her, acknowledging her power.

"Rise," intoned Millane. "I have a gift for you. But first, my dagger." It was given to her, almost reluctantly, for the wielder had relished the power it gave him. "Now take these, and use them as I have instructed you." She handed a bandolier, laden with the bells of her trade, to him.

He hesitated, about to place the leather strap around his shoulder. Was this the path he was to walk?

"What are you waiting for? Much longer and we will miss our chance!" hissed Millane in his ear. "Do you have any idea how long it took me to make those bells you are declining to wield!?"

He swung the strap over his head and settled it on a shoulder. This may not be his path, but it was the one he was forced to walk.

"Better, now get through that gate and do what I brought you here for."

He turned, the Free Magic spell to raise an arch in the endless line of fire caressing his lips as it passed. Charter magi were so weak. A mere word of Free Magic could scorch their throats, blister their lips. He embraced it ass second nature. Passing through the gate, he heard one last warning from Millane.

"Remember, should you fail, I shall be waiting here to behead her...and then you."

†††

"I wish I could tell you who did this, but I don't know," said Touchstone, more calmly than would any other upon the moment of his death. "Likely a necromancer, for the cut tingles with Free Magic."

"Then someday I'll find him and force him to walk tis same path, but for now the final gate calls for you."

Touchstone nodded and raised his head to look to the stars. After nearly a quarter millennia in this world, he would have his rest. The silver dusted sky called to him, and he answered.

Sabriel watched till he disappeared past the gate, then turned homeward. She passed the eighth gate gloomily, eyes turned downward. She wouldn't have noticed if a Greater Dead had attacked, but there were none in sight. Briefly, she cast out her death sense to detect any within the precinct, but there were none. _Touchstone's death must have thrown it off._

She waded on toward the seventh gate. Sabriel was tempted to lie down and allow the waters to take her away, away to where she could see him again. But Lirael, though powerful, was not yet quite ready to fully take over the duties of Abhorsen, and there was also young Katrel. He'd become somewhat distant from the family over the years, but was always willing to learn about Death, bells, and the path of an Abhorsen.

Just before she reached it, a slim figure crossed through the line of fire. Sabriel stopped and snapped her head up, ready for the threat. One hand already curling around Saraneth's smooth handle, she peered into the gloom, trying to make out the intruder.

But the figure already knew where Sabriel was. Striding forward, he drew Kibeth and Saraneth from the bandolier across his chest. A necromancer! More dangerous by far than any Dead thing, but Sabriel had battled many before and was sure this one would be no cause for panic. Besides, she considered it luck to be able to send someone who very well may have killed her husband to an early end.

He spoke words she'd never heard, but that knocked the breath out of her with the heat of Free Magic. A hand formed in the air, shimmering and emanating the reek of its origin. It drew a third bell, Dyrim, and rang it even as the necromancer did the first two.

Sabriel met the necromancer's will with full force. she floundered, nearly fell under his control, then resurfaced. _This one was strong, possibly more so than Chlorr._ She drew a heavy breath and cleared her eyes to find him standing right next to her.

"I never did like you much," he sneered, and forced the rest of his will at her.

Sabriel had time for only three words before she was overcome. "Katrel! How? Why?" She stiffened, bound to his will.

"Follow."

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**A/N I'm sorry, really sorry! But they did have to die sometime! They were positively ancient for that time period. Besides, we had an Abhorsen-in-waiting-in-waiting! How long could that last? Just remember, Sabriel isn't completely dead yet, just.…. bound against her will. **

**And just a little piece of information: I don't share Katrel's view of Sabriel. If I did, I would have killed her too. Not to say that I hate Touchstone, of course...**


	9. When One Falls

Subdued, Sabriel could do nothing but what he demanded. She followed, joints stiffened by the magic that had invaded her very bones. Though all her body was controlled by the spell, her mind still raced freely as he led her through the next gates.

No Dead rose to greet them, and she could neither see nor sense any, even with her now heightened awareness. Even the fourth precinct, where Dead stunned by the third precinct's waves gathered by the hundreds, was empty. This must have been carefully planned. It would take a lone necromancer months to achieve this. Even a group would take several days, and whomever had done the job would have had to return and empty the precincts of new arrivals every day. It was just too perfect. And Katrel, turned from the Abhorsen he should have been, to ordinary necromancy.… Lirael would be in great danger. Worse there was nothing she could do to warn her. No mother could suspect her own son to be at the center of the storm that had killed her closest relatives. Lirael would be the next to die, and no living Abhorsen would remain. Which would, of course, be their ultimate plan. Once the Abhorsen's line was out of their way, necromancers and their rotting servants could freely terrorize the rest of life. Unchecked, they would eliminate all humanity other than the Dead's heartless masters.

"Wait here." he would not even have need Saraneth's low toll, which he again assaulted her with. The child will was unbreakable. Sabriel stopped, the river's water seeming to freeze around her feet.

Katrel pressed against the border, feeling the suppressive chill of Death turn into the musty cold of the dungeon. He would have to reach his room before his parents came to collect him. Within minutes, they would be returning to the house by paperwing. From there, he could reenter Death to retrieve his charge.

Katrel nearly jumped back out of his skin, a thunderclap crescendoing as his spirit slipped back into its vacated shell. Fine flying weather this would make. Saraneth had best hold his aunt still, lest she escape before he reached the desired destination. For that matter, he should probably attempt to do something with her body. Not that he would be able to move it far. Sabriel had gained a good bit of weight over the years, and his muscles were barely developed enough to be called such. Still, back up the stairs he went.

Nearing the top of the staircase, he spied his mother knocking on the bedroom door. She frowned, hand falling to the knob. The game was up. Lirael would open the door, see the blood and... Thinking no farther, he bolted down the stairs, heading for the door. This place, this family held nothing for him now. His path lay in the magic, the murder, the devastation of Free magic and necromancy.

The royal guards saw him running across the yard, but were not concerned. After all, he was but a child reveling in his youth. Lirael would be there to sort him out soon enough.

†††

Lirael stumbled into the room. Her head had been pounding since she had woken with a splitting headache the previous night. '_Charter help us,_' she thought, eyes falling on the bloodstained pillows. ' _I must have been so groggy that my death sense felt like a headache. But there had only been one death here. What could, did, happen to Sabriel?' _Lirael slowly drew closer to the bed where the royal couple lay. Sabriel lay still, one hand encased in red crystal on Touchstone's cheek. The remainder of her body was also thickly iced over. It melted slowly, soaking the blankets even as more ice built up. She must have walked into Death with him and been held up there. The Death was hours old, and nothing normal could have kept her this long. She could still live, Lirael knew, but she would not choose to after such a long time in Death. Like her father, Sabriel was a true Abhorsen and would not stray from her path.

She could stand no longer. Lirael fell to her knees, allowing her tears to fall freely to join the water pooling on the covers. She had known the joy of family for less than a decade, and it was to be torn from her again. No longer could Touchstone fondly tease Nick and herself. Sabriel would never show her the hidden books she had discovered within the House. Silently, she swore on the Charter whose power she carried to find the murderer. And when she did, he would know the full wrath of both an Abhorsen and a Remembrancer.

She rose. Her work here was not yet done. Signing the usual marks over his body, she gave Touchstone the final fire. Lirael turned, making for the door. The rest of the family would have to know, and it seemed she would be the one to bear the news.

Before she reached Ellimere's chambers, nausea overcame her. Lirael managed to hold down the previous night's supper, but knew that would not last were she to open her mouth. Producing a notepad and her owl-shaped pen from a hidden pocket, she jotted three identical notes. At the top of each, she left a space for the name. Only that, and a final line on one would differ. She paused near the door where she would place the final note, wondering if she should wake him. No, it would be best to go, but.… No. She stuck the note on the door and left.

_Nick, _

_ Touchstone was murdered, and Sabriel lingers in Death. I suspect she has been held up by an accomplice of the person who killed the King. I'm heading into Death with the mirror, then I'll be off to take on the Necromancer. Watch over Katrel while I'm gone, and don't forget your meeting in Ancelstierre! _

†††

A bird bewitched to act like old Ancelstierrian alarm clock woke Nick as the first traces of sun peeked over the horizon. He yawned, stretched briefly, and came dangerously close to whacking the bird on the head in pursuit of a snooze button before remembering that it was not equipped with the useful device. Giving up on getting any more rest, he noticed a flicker of of yellow. _'Will she never break that habit?'_ He scanned over the note once, then went back to read over it intently.

As if on cue, Ellimere pounded on the door the second he had finished re-reading the last line. Pulling on a fur robe, he let her in. "So," Nick said, loosing his typical smarts in his shock. "What are we going to do?"

"I thought that would be more than obvious. Lirael's gone, taking our only chance for capturing the assassin with her. All we can really do is follow the old proverb and hope she returns soon."

He shot her a quizzical look. "What proverb?"

"When one falls..." She allowed the end to trail out, giving him ample opportunity to recall the rest. After an enduring silence, she asked, "Surely at this this _one_ must have found a way into Ancelstierre?"

The still puzzled expression on his face told her otherwise. Ellimere relented, and gave him the adage's ending. "…. another must rise. Now hurry and get properly dressed. There's an announcement to be made, and somebody's got to keep Mogget out of it."

**A/N** Well, there you go, the entire ninth chapter. Since I'm finally reaching the end of what I had written before finding this site, if there's something you'd like to see happen, tell me! As long as it can reasonably fit in with the rest of the plot, your ideas are likely to make their way into a future chapter.


	10. Katrel's Strength

Not a half hour into his flight, Katrel regretted bringing nothing but the bells. He had not had the time for breakfast, and was miserably hungry. The small berries he came by earlier were no help; they had only caused his belly to ache. Just how large was this forest?He had known it was easy to get lost in the overgrown orchards behind the palace, but this was ridiculous! _If only it was late summer, half these blasted vines would be covered in fruit. _His stomach rumbled loudly at the thought. _Charter, no, Free Magic consume her, I'm going to kill Millane for this! Two days ago, I had a straight path of an abhorsen, and then she came to set this... thing on my chest. _Try as he might, Katrel could not convince himself they were just silver and leather. That they were, but the instruments had been tainted by the Free Magic that gave all such things their power. Unimaginably heavier than his mother's, the bells were a weight spiritually just as they were physically.

Gentle wisps of nearly transparent smoke drifted in the breeze. _So, I've found the camp after all. _He loosened the small sword that hung at his waist. _It won't do much, but maybe..._ _Drat! She's sensed me. Now she'll -_

**Flash**

What are you doing? Do you honestly think that mere steel could harm me? The mere fact that such a notion could strike you disgusts me! Begone!

**Flash**

The chime of a bell drifted to his ears. No other would have heard it; the sound was softer than the smoke's slight scent. But to his ears the sound was magnified ten thousand times. Kibeth's voice rose and fell, entangling his feet in her melody, as well as swinging his sword hand to flick the weapon into a tree. If he did not turn his body with his feet, they would be ripped from his legs. But he could not, would not leave just yet. True, Sabriel had bugged him at times, but Touchstone had always been good to him. For his death, she would suffer. Already cringing from the pain in his legs, Katrel reached for the Kibeth from his own bandolier. He swung it slowly, reversing the order and direction of turns usually made, pouring more of his will into the spell at the apex of each twist. The boy finished with a command impossible for any eight year old.

"BE STILL!" His voice thundered through the air, sending every bird within a mile into frenzied flight.

He met resistance for a moment, then his feet stopped, rooted to the ground. KAtrel swirled to face Millane, who was emerging from a denser patch of trees. Swinging Kibeth quickly now, he directed his will at the woman in front of him.

She would not walk as he did. Her path would be quite different; Katrel would ensure that. As far as he was concerned, their paths would never again cross. He watched the lazy mists drift from her body as Kibeth drove her farther into Death. Smirking, he followed her.

Millane's spirit hesitated at the First Gate, reluctant to pass. But Katrel poured more of his inexhaustible will into the still-echoing tones of the bell, urging her on. He gave one small kindness; as she stepped off the precipice of the waterfall, he spoke the spell of passage, allowing her to cross safely. The boy continued to do so for the next gates, always following a step behind her, just beyond a sword's reach. They reached the fourth gate, a thin ribbon of black unfurling before them. When they reached what seemed to be the halfway point he stopped, giving Kibeth a light shake to make his ward do likewise. Katrel quickly drew a dagger from his boot, one eye always on Millane, as he had not put much will behind the bell's last toll. He touched the fine edge of the blade to the back of her neck, then thought better of himself. _Why should he be so kind? _She _certainly hadn't been. _Whisking the weapon between their bodies, he feinted towards her abdomen. As the tip of the dagger pierced her skin, Millane wore through the last of the spell. He reeled back as her sword cut through the space he had just occupied. Catching her on the ball of one foot, Katrel shoved Millane off the strip of inky darkness.

Work finished, he turned back towards Life. Close to the border, he hunted the waters till he found the former Abhorsen's spirit. "Follow, and don't lag behind. You will be directly behind me at all times." Satisfied that she would obey, he left Death, dragging her through the border with him. Katrel then set off east, toward a small rowboat he had found the previous year.


	11. The Red Hand

Mogget must have enhanced hearing. there was no possible way it was pure coincidence that he had shown up immediately after Ellimere had gone out to make her announcement.

"I don't care if she's pleading our continued existence to the Great charters! This is urgent!"

"Mogget," Nick replied sternly, barricading the door to the balcony where Ellimere was speaking. "She doesn't want you in there. That's the whole reason why I'm here. You're staying out." It was said with a tone of finality, but Mogget was not one to back down.

"And if the Red Hand were to be camped on our doorstep? Would you let me in then?"

Nick glanced out a convenient window. "They're not," he said dryly, looking down at the empty steps. "So it doesn't really matter."

Apparently it did matter, as Mogget had gotten his wish while Nicholas was scoping out the step. Nick turned to find him chatting to a rather depressed Ellimere. He quickly sidestepped to place himself between the two and clamped a hand over the cat's mouth. "How'd it go?" Before he could get so much as a disgruntled 'fine', sharp points pierced his palm.

"As I was saying...there is a small faction of the Red Hand camped in the old orchard. I suggest you eradicate them. If I must, I'll lead the guard there."

She snapped to attention at the mention of the necromantic clan. "The guards' number are few lately, and I doubt they would well handle such a group. We will go alone, spy out the camp, and return."

"Your death. Let's go."

†††

"It appears you were right, Mogget." Ellimere kicked a small pile of ash, revealing embers still burning deep within. "But whoever was here has clearly left the vicinity."

"She likely heard you thrashing through the forest and made a break for it. And I've told you countless times; it was Millane, ring leader of the Red Hand."

"Shut up, Mogget. It could just have easily have been Katrel. Nobody's seen him, and he does know how to make a fire." The cat got a glare that clearly said 'if the queen weren't here, why I'd.…'

"It's a basic skill. I wasn't going to allow your dependancy on shiny rocks to cost the boy his life, or a little warmth. Now, if you don't have any more pointless arguments, I'm going to track Millane."

Forgetting his former reservations about violence around the queen, Nick gave mogget a sharp kick too hurry him on his way out. The action earned him a brief laugh before Ellimere turned serious again.

"The Clayr should have told us about this."

"They must have not known. No Clayr would hide something this important from the other bloodlines." Being wed to a former Clayr, Nick was loyal to no end.

"The ice shows them everything. They probably know who's going to have a baby next before she's even pregnant. Only Orannis ever escaped their Sight."

"Orannis..." Nick started pacing so furiously, Ellimere thought he'd soon be walking on roots. "That's why! Contact the Clayr. See if they've had many mass visions lately." He was graced with a bewildered look, but knew she would comply.

"The contact ice has melted. Sam will have to go.'

"On the subject of ice," Mogget's voice drawled from behind a bush, "you should see this."

Starting about twenty feet away, the ground was ravaged as if something had been shoved through it. Mogget led the two along the path until it ended. In front of them was an underwater cliff. The water was clear enough to see all the way to the bottom, where a giant chunk of ice rested.

"No!"

"Fool. That's not your son. He's that speck out there."

Abashed, Nick raised his head to see a tiny boat drifting towards the northern shore. "Ellimere, can you send someone to pick him up? I've got a meeting, and Sam is going to the glacier." And with that, they scattered to their tasks.

†††

Millane struggled to keep her face above the surface of the water. If it were to be transformed like the rest of her body, she wouldn't be capable of speech, and then...

She reached the Fifth gate and slipped into the not-so-deep waters of the Sixth Precinct, revealing her torso to have the shape of nothing. Nothing, except perhaps a large blob of jelly. Grumbling, she waded through the remaining precincts until she reached the final one, where she carefully got down to what should have been hands and knees. _He said it would be here...not that he's exactly known for honesty. _Her inner ranting found a solid form. "I'm here to help you! Now where's the latch!?" In answer, one questing bit of blob found it. Millane opened the trap door and slid down the series of steps below.

A fire blazed in the room at the foot of the stairs. A voice came from the center of the inferno. "I like your new shape. Far more useful than the last one. You should have let him knock you off ages ago." A retort caught in her throat, Millane awaited any useful information he might have had.

"You will stay here for a time. Practice using the bells with your..._hands, _and learn to shape-shift. Before you find it necessary to ask, no, you cannot change to any specific form. The shape of any living thing, plant, animal, or human will evade you. You will, however, learn to change into another vague shape and change to any size you wish before you leave."

"As you say." Millane said it cautiously, any hint of annoyance and she could be burned, vaporized, or worse.

††††

**A/N** These chapters have been getting too short for my liking lately. Much shorter than this, and I'll have to start combining two into one. But, for those of you who agree with me, you only have to suffer through one more tiny chapter before I post a decently sized one. Before I leave, there is one question, which will have immediate results: Will Sam have any love troubles? Don't expect anything overly long about this, either way, but I do need to know for the next chapter. (Which means you won't get it until I have at least one answer.) If you're quick, I'll have the next one up tomorrow.


	12. Twisted Halls of Twisted Clayr

A small band of soldiers broke away from Sam. Here they would leave him, on their way to find Katrel. 'If he wasn't an Abhorsen, that child would be far more trouble than he's worth!' Such were the thoughts plaguing his mind as Sam carried on to the Glacier. Still a hundred miles to go, and already all he could see was ice. It was no wonder the barbarian suitor Ellimere had seen was so crazy. Anybody could go mad in this place.

When he finally swung off his horse, Sam was cold, and hungry, and wet from a sudden snowstorm. It was a good thing Lirael had taught him the making of Charter skins. He tied the poor horse to a scraggly tree and threw both his blankets over it before beginning the spell. Half an hour later, Sam shivered his way into a polar bear's shape. Now, provided he didn't scratch it off in the middle of the night, he could have a nice, warm body to sleep in.

The next day, he arrived at the Glacier and entered through the merchants' gate. Almost immediately he found a Clayr who could guide him to a room and show him around. He was en route to the aforementioned chamber when he bumped into yet another white-clad being.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Unlike most of the others he had nudged along the way, he looked her straight in the eyes as he said it. The were blue, he noted, brighter and more resplendent than the purest robin's egg, with a single dot of black in the exact center. He silently cursed the muddiness of his own irises. Brown was so dull, so incredibly common compared to that color. Sameth realized that he had been staring at her far longer than could possibly be considered accidental, and stepped aside.

She continued on her way, throwing him a smile over her shoulder. The woman's eyes flashed every bit as much as her gleaming teeth.

"Who was _that?_" Sam inquired of his silent guide.

The Clayr took a quick glance at the figure's retreating back. "Firana," she said simply.

†††

It seemed they were fated to meet a second time that day, for so they did. She was passing the Great library; he was returning a volume entitled _Ancient Magicks of the Clayr. _Again, Firana smiled at the man, hoping he would respond this time. No such luck. She would have to result to craftier methods.

†††

At last, the day of her opportunity arrived. The handsome young visitor, Sam, as she had learned his name to be, needed a Clayr to lead him to the room of the Nine Day Watch. And who better for the job than Firana, who would be traveling there to do her time anyway? She met him at the guest chambers, far below the main halls of the glacier, but close to the room of ice in which the Clayr caught most of their glimpses of the future.

He opened the door, looking slightly downwards to see his escort's face. Again, he was lost in her eyes, which had strangely changed color. No longer robin's egg blue, they were now a turquoise deeper than the Sea of Saere.

"Well, come on then," she said. "We must get there early, so that you may not interrupt the Watch with your... examinations. She strode down the corridor, clearly expecting Sameth to follow without further instruction. He needed none. If she were to get two corners ahead of him, he would be hopelessly lost here.

Sam followed her as she took a left, two rights, and then many more turns he had no hope of memorizing. He spotted a gleam in an upcoming hallway. They must be nearly there, if that was the shine of ice instead of the ubiquitous stone. As he came closer though, he saw that it was not the gleam of ice, but rather the more deadly glint of highly polished steel.

"You must be blindfolded here," she said, turning to face him.

He sighed, and muttered under his breath, but allowed the cloth to be tied around his head. Before the fabric slipped over his eyes, Sam gripped Firana's arm. she might know the way from here, but he didn't, and wasn't about to bet his life on the chance that this Clayr would not trick him. He dogged her, hand tightening whenever he felt her making a turn.

†††

This would be her only chance. She couldn't mess this up, or he would leave, and then... She could not, would not, think any farther. Firana followed the standard path to the observatory, but took a left instead of the last right. She followed this with another left, which should lead to a dead end. It seemed she had either mapped the area incorrectly, or the Glacier was trying to take them back to their path, for the corridor continued on, toward the observatory. Cursing mildly, she walked down the hall until she found a right, which led to the desired dead end.

Firana pried Sam's hand from her wrist, showing more strength than she had any right to possess. She promptly followed this by whipping away his blindfold and kissing him.

Sam stared, dumbstruck, for a moment before words came to his lips. "Leave me, wench!"

"Well, so be it!" Firana marched off, head held high. As son as she turned the corner and was out of sight, she ran at the full speed possible while in a dress. 'With his slow wits, I'll be at the observatory before he even takes a step,' she thought.

"Now which... Ah, I hate women!' Sam, faced with two corridors to choose from, took the one to the right. He blundered about for hours, more lost than when he had been blindfolded. At last, he found a passing Clayr. Having had quite enough of stone and ice, he asked to be lead to his room.

He passed her several times in the next days, both traveling to and from the Observatory. Sameth would never give her so much as a glance, determined to hold his resistance no matter how much he longed to give in.

†††

**A/N** Well, that actually came out half decently! Being that this scene was written around the same time as the first two chapters, I expected it to be much worse. At any rate, it's here now. So, how am I at scripting more romantic scenes? Like it? Hate it? Do you want to see more of them or never catch me writing one again? Whichever it is, let me know.. you never know what could show up in the future.


	13. Lirael's Return

Lirael arrived unceremoniously at the palace at nearly 3 a.m. Lacking any energy whatsoever, she leaned farther back in the hammock-seat and promptly fell asleep.

She awoke to the rising sun, a pleasant warmth on her stomach, and a lining of white hair on her surcoat.

"Mogget," she mumbled. "Get off before you poke holes in the map." Once again, the cat was using his favorite excuse. Ranna had, supposedly, put him to sleep. Lirael heard a slight snigger from behind her and turned over to find the source. Mogget, having lost his bed, jumped off the Paperwing.

"Hello Nick. Has there been any trouble in the Palace?"

"Nothing to worry about, dear."

Lirael made a noise faintly distinguishable as 'good.' and clambered out of the Paperwing before tottering groggily down the stairs. She had just flopped onto the bed she and Nick shared, with every intent of getting a few more hours of shut-eye, when Ellimere strode in with an obnoxiously loud greeting.

'Grand. Now everyone in the building will know I'm here. Looks as though I'm going to get no more sleep.'

There was, indeed, no more rest in store for Lirael. Ellimere swooped down to the bed like a hawk to it's prey. "Any luck?"

"Only of the bad sort."

In an instant, Nick was behind her with a comforting arm. "What happened?"

"They were waiting for me. Three necromancers together in Death, and shadow hands to come after my body."

Her niece gasped. "And you fought them all off?"

"I wouldn't be here if I hadn't. I was slightly lucky, I suppose. All were novices with their bells. Their main skill was hand-to-hand combat." Lirael touched her arm, and winced. "At best, I'm pretty bruised. But I do believe my arm's broken."

"Hm. I'll get the healer up here soon. Meanwhile, why don't you come down and have some breakfast."

Lirael inwardly sighed. Of course Ellimere would find a way to keep her out of bed.

"No, Ellimere. What she needs now is rest. Go fetch Eldra and I'll take care of everything up here."

Thank the Charter. Nick had saved her from Ellimere yet again. He was truly her knight inÉsomething. Her eyes were too fogged with the anticipated sleep to see what he had been wearing. It didn't matter anyways. All that mattered now was the soft bed, the softer pillow, and sleep, sweet sleep.

She woke to gentle candlelight late that evening. Her arm was splinted, and Nick was still beside her, studying something. From the room's decor she knew he had taken her back to the Abhorsen's house. Wait, she knew that tattered old paper he held. It was the one she'd salvaged from the physical body of one of the necromancers. "You know, it's rather improper to search a slumbering lady's pockets."

Startled, Nick's head snapped towards her. "It's not very nice to scare people like that either."

She grinned. "Perhaps, but it is certainly is entertaining."

"Hm. Where did you come by this?"

"The usual way."

It was common knowledge that the Abhorsen's pay came through the pockets of the necromancers they defeated, as well as small wages for the charms they cast around people's homes.

"How would they have gotten this information? This could have been used to kill us, and possibly the rest of the bloodlines."

That finally woke her up. Lirael sat up straight and demanded the paper. After less than a second, she could only hope that there was not another copy of the map.

The thin paper held a highly detailed map of the Abhorsen's house, showing clear pictures of every level and room. It even extended to show all the tiny, insignificant things outside, like the herb garden. Upon closer inspection, the map showed which of the trees in the orchard were good to hide in, as well as a tiny note below the sketch of Alliel's fountain. There, the ink faded and the parchment worn, clearly from being touched far too often.

But what would anyone want with the fountain? It was a nice place to sit when the sun was shining, but nothing important ever happened there. Really, the Book of the Dead was less confusing.

On the thought of that, she pulled the tome out of her surcoat, which had found itself on the floor. Lirael flipped to the last few pages of the book with one hand while screwing a nib onto her owl-shaped pen. Every Abhorsen had added something to the leather-bound pages, even if it was just a brief history of their birth. She dunked the tip of the pen in an inkwell and turned to the blank page before her. Or, at least, the page had been blank. Lirael quickly scanned the text and finished just in time to see the last word tracing itself upon the parchment. She then went back to carefully read over the entire thing.

_The fountain arrived today. It was a horrible task to get the thing over those infernal stepping-stones, but at least it's here now. The chamber, as I have written, was completed two weeks ago, minus the damageables of course. At last, we won't have every visitor staring at that gaping hole. I shouldn't complain, though. Donniken assures me it's made from only the strongest materials and marks. For being a Clayr, and my brother, no less, he certainly has a way with creating things. We can only hope he won't get in trouble with some of them. In any case, he did a beautiful job engraving my name in the bottom of it. I honestly wouldn't have known whether it was done by hand or spell if he hadn't told me it was the latter._

_ Alliel, 14th Abhorsen_

There was more on the next page, but Lirael feared she would not be able to withhold her curiosity if she read any farther. As it was, she would be eagerly awaiting first light to examine the fountain.

Lirael began as the first hints of gray teased the October sky into dawning. Dew soaked through her house shoes and she found herself rubbing her goose-pimpled arms. This month's wind was constant, and she should have brought a jacket. But Lirael had been, and still was, far too eager to pause for anything.

There. It was in sight now, the tall jade statue rising from an ebony base. It truly had been made of the finest materials, and she had often been comforted by the security of its spells. And now, here she was heading back to the fountain. Again, she needed comfort, and to know that she could truly rest, if only for a day. But rest was one thing Lirael would not get. Even as she strolled the rest of the way to the site, she knew that it would be a long, long time before then.

Now that she was closer, she could see the statue's extreme detail. It was a striking image of an Abhorsen Lirael could only assume was Alliel. Every tiny key that had been embroidered on the surcoat was chiseled out in even finer detail, if that was possible. She was pictured in full gethre, and the effect of it on the pale green stone made her look like a rare fish leaping from the water. It was so beautiful Lirael was sure it was accurate down to the very number of scales and keys. But, at last, she tore her eyes from the torso.

Only to gape at the face. Every hair, line, and eyelash had be sculpted perfectly and dutifully, almost as though by a lover's hand. But even a statue like this one could not hold her attention for long when there was a secret about it. Somewhere, there was a large hole in the ground. Something, obviously valuable, would have been placed there. And, from the sound of it, everything was right under the fountain. The fountain, though, was huge. It really must have been quite a task. They couldn't have possibly lifted it across, and there wasn't enough space in a paperwing for both the stonework and a pilot. If they had even been created at that point. Lirael never could remember just which Abhorsen had made them. Which left only magic. It would have taken an incredible surge of power to move such a heavy object, but it was possible. If she could duplicate the spell, she should have enough power to move the fountain enough to slip inside.

But finding a spell strong enough would take long hours of searching through endless volumes. UnlessÉshe could get the Book of the Dead to show her more of Alliel's writing. A spell like that would almost certainly be documented. Dealing with that book was never easy, but it would be worth a try.

**A/N ** Wow. I've been working on Chapter 15 for quite a while now, and I must say, I've found a whole new respect for people attempting to describe the old Kingdom's past. It's very tricky to make anything important really mesh with both Nix's original plot and your own ideas. So, kudos to all those who've managed it, and good luck to those who try!


	14. What Lies Below

"All are dead. The Abhorsen has taken their map."

"It was expected. Those novices really had no hope against her. You should have listened when I first told you that. She is my mother after all."

"Of course. I'll remember that in the future. But what of the map?"

"She will help me make another. And this time, you will make copies of it before handing it over to an untrained necromancer." A finger was thrust first at Sabriel's spirit, trapped in a net woven of magic, then at a scribe cowering in the room's corner. "If you have nothing more important to trouble me with, leave." The door at the far end of the chamber flew open and slammed into the wall. showing a clear end to conversation on any topic.

Renga scuttled out of the room.

Katrel used his only recently discovered link to Orannis's mind to contact him. '_Don't you think a proficient retainer is a low enough price for eternal freedom?'_

_'Of course. But then, you can create them yourself. Renga is your strategist, not a common servant.'_

_'She's even worse at that.'_

_'You haven't come up with any brilliant ideas yourself.'_

_'We'll see about that_.' He tried to shut off the link, but before he could, a disgruntled sound made its way to his mind.

He turned to Sabriel. "First off, what do you know of the fountain?"

"I know nothing other than it was made for Alliel, fourteenth Abhorsen. It is a fine work of art." The moment after entrapping her, Katrel had used a complex succession of bells to befuddle her mind and make her tell him any truth he wanted. She could still tell what wasn't right for her to say, though, and attempted to hide any important facts.

He, on the other hand, was having none of that. "What form does that statue take?"

"It was a perfect copy of Alliel."

"And was there anything different about Alliel?"

"I…she was a remembrancer."

"That will do for now. Describe the house in full detail, down to the last garden shrub and hidden room." There was no getting around this one. She would have to tell the traitor everything she knew about the house and its surroundings.

†††

It seemed the Book of the Dead was content to be amicable for a time. As before, Lirael opened to a blank page, and ink flowed to the surface to form words.

_The books went in today. I must say, it gave me a touch of vertigo, watching them disappear like that. Wasn't much better when I went through either. It was a stroke of genius for him to disguise the door as the hole in the A, but it's horribly mean to do that since I can't swim. He says the water can't drown people, just like it can't ruin books, but it still worries me. In any case, the books are there if they are needed, and I'll never have to go down there again._

_ Alliel_

'So, the only thing below the fountain is books. And yet, if it's just books, why couldn't they just be left in the study? If, it was because they were too important to risk falling into the wrong hands…' "I'll just have to go and see for myself, then," she said aloud.

Sure enough, fifteen minutes she was at the fountain, staring at the name engraved at the bottom. As a test, she stuck her hand into the water and pulled it back out. It was dry, but it glimmered with Charter marks. "But it's water! It can't be glamour!" She repeated the action to the same results before looking at the fountain from the corner of her eye. Lirael moved around, taking in every detail. The only thing missing was the water, and the center of the A in ALLIEL. Hesitantly, she swung one leg over the lip and into the fountain.

It was solid enough, and she brought the rest of her body to join that leg. It felt wet, but then she already knew she would come out dry. Lirael inched around the A and stuck in a toe. It instantly disappeared. She dropped to a knee, grasped both sides of the A, and lowered herself in. Just before her head would have dipped below the surface, Lirael's feet met what felt like a chair. She relaxed her arms and ducked so she could see inside.

The chair she had been standing on broke. The shock overwhelmed her arms, and Lirael plummeted to the floor with the bits of broken chair. As the dust cleared, Lirael was able to make out a table, much like the one in the study, and a bookcase behind it. All in all, the room was less than ten feet across. She rose, and walked to the shelf. It contained only four titles, and two she had seen before. The _Book of the Dead_ was here, though in a plain brown binding and clearly not imbued with Chapter magic. There was the book she had first learned about the dark mirror from, and beside it was a very thin volume simply called _This Place_. Lirael took it and the other she had not read from the bookcase and went to the table. She fully expected to sit there and read before she realized she had broken the only chair in the room. Instead, she lay belly-down on the lush carpet and cracked open the first book.

It was written in the same flowing hand she had seen in the _Book of the Dead_, and looked as if it had been written hastily.

_I am, or more likely was, Alliel. As you now know, the entrance to this place is concealed as the A in the fountain. This place was designed to hold secret books, like the one that is untitled, as well as to be a refuge in a siege, as is happening now. If you are under siege, take this tome with you, as well as the others. In enemies' hands, they would be deadly. If our attackers do not destroy it, the bookcase should be a three by three grid. The center bottom shelf, like the water and entrance, is only a spell, and so you may pass through it._

Lirael paused and did as the book instructed, finding a room with two beds and several shelves and bottles. She laid on one of the beds and went back to her reading. The next line was scratched out, and there was fresher text neatly printed above it.

_We have consumed all the stores. They will need to be replaced. That is all there is to be known about this place. If you haven't already, you should turn to the other books now._

Below that, there was more written, though faintly. Lirael brightened the Charter light she had conjured, and leaned closer to the book.

_I fear death. The pain in my stomach has long since passed, but now I am weak. We need to gather food from the gardens, but there's not an hour when we can't hear them above our heads. We still don't know how they got in, only that now we cannot escape what we had thought to be safety. Much longer and we will all succumb to starvation. If only I could see, I'd shoot them all down with spells, but I cannot. I can only sit, and wait._


	15. Mogget's Full Disclosal

Lirael emerged from Alliel's fountain with an extremely disgruntled expression. She'd had to tip the table on its end to get back out, but that wasn't the reason behind her rage. She marched to the house, half-shouted at Nick to get in the study and stay there until she arrived, then went up to the observatory. As was his usual when he wasn't making sarcastic remarks, Mogget was napping on the cushioned stool by the telescope. The Abhorsen grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and hauled him all the way to the study in the same fashion, ignoring the yowls and scratches he gave her.

"Tell-me-everything!" Her tone implied certain torture, but her eyes held the natural curiosity of every librarian. She took a moment to calm herself before continuing. "Or at least everything about the Bright Shiners.

"Fine," the cat mumbled, but began his tale.

"In the beginning, there were ten of us. After the tenth went mad and destroyed herself along with a good bit of the world, we agreed to limit our powers. Each decided to control the point of Life we though most important. Ranna chose sleep, which also allowed her to control time, to an extent. Mosrael wished to bring the tenth back, so she chose resurrection. Kibeth, for reason only she knows, picked motion. For Dyrim, it was speech. Saraneth wanted control. And Astarael took over Death. That's the ones you know of, and use."

"But there's more." Nick was the one now pressing for his information.

"Yes. Those were the ones who eventually chose to leave this world, and so left their powers in the people they most trusted, or just gave a tiny bit to everybody."

"Again, we knew. Tell us something new."

"I'm about to. When Mosrael brought back Liane, then tenth shiner, there was nothing that could contain her. Only nine bodies could ever hold us, and those were all occupied. So she got squeezed in with Orannis. Now back to the choosing of powers. If the first seven had chosen all the more basic, but powerful elements, so the rest of us had to get a bit more creative. I chose the ability to revoke what anybody else says. Or at least what any Bright Shiner says. Saraneth binds something, I can free it. Mosrael raises somebody, I can kill them. Except Orannis and Liane. Since they chose after me, their powers are not subject to revoking. Orannis, as you've seen, is the destroyer. He can wipe out a whole planet if not restricted within the hour. And Liane, having already felt Death's touch, wanted to live forever. She can be destroyed by no force but her own.

We separated for a time, and when we next met, the Seven had chosen to leave. It was then that the bells were made. Silver always had been one of the most powerful metals, so that was what they were to be made of. Besides that, the price of silver was high enough that not just anybody could construct bells as we did. They left the knowledge of the bell's making to the Abhorsen, as well as the original set of bells.

But Orannis, Liane, and I didn't give our bells to the Abhorsen, or anyone, for that matter. Orannis used the heat of his destroying fire to meld his bell and Liane's together, then wrapped it around them. I, however,, was neither as greedy or stupid as he. By using his bell metal so, he would never have to share his power, but there was only one person to guard it. If it were to be taken from him, he would have to use physical force or risk going mad to get it back. I both disguised and hid mine."

"And where is it now?" Both Lirael and Nick were both on the edge of their seats, leaning forward as though the feline's voice was hardly audible.

"Considering Orannis has yet to be completely destroyed, and my power will be needed to perform that task, I may as well tell you. You'll never get much of it anyway. Not without my help.

When the Seven caught me, they left my binding in the hands of the then Abhorsen. Only Saraneth had a part in it, and all he did was secure the spell. Well, Kalliel was a bumbling idiot, and forgot to add in a charm to prevent me from changing the collar.

So I did. Until this time, I had kept my share of silver well hidden in a secret chamber inside the House. I took just a smidgen of it and shaped it to look like the bell that the Abhorsen had attached to the collar. Then I just switched the two. Nobody noticed, and so it stayed that way for millennia. Until Sabriel removed the collar, in fact."

"But then, shouldn't it have reformed into the ring?"

"No," Mogget answered sharply. "The ring was made entirely of Saraneth's metal. That was how I used the the metal from the old bell on my collar. Joen was so happy about my gift, he forgot to ask where it came from."

"And what of the rest?" Lirael, well used to Mogget's plots, had the feeling he was trying to hide the location of the rest of his bell.

"You'd have better luck keeping Kibeth still that getting your hands on that."

"Just tell me where it is. Now."

"Fine. I used free Magic to slightly soften the silver, then jammed it between two rocks in the Ratterlin."

"Where in the Ratterlin, Mogget? ANd why on earth would you soften it?"

"I softened it so it would erode faster. As for where, I believe I will let you guess. That's all I know."

Lirael groaned. "Mogget..."

But all he did was trot away, too quickly to be grabbed again, but still slow enough to tease them.

"Well, we may as well start with what we know." That was Nick, always the voice of reason. "The first bit is in Holehallow."


	16. Return to Holehallow

The paperwing skimmed across the sky with the light breeze. Far below, a gem glittered in the waving grass. Nose tilting down, the paperwing and its passenger prepared to land. As the altitude dropped, details became clearer, and the gems became clearly defined webs. Below those webs were deep pits, and in one such hole was part of Yrael's bell.

The belly of the paperwing touched down with a thud, and skidded a few feet, coming to a rest beside a pit. Lirael vaulted over the craft's side and strolled to the very edge of the hole. Looking down, the sinkhole appeared to be covered by a gigantic spider web. As she touched the webbing, though, she could feel spells of strength, catching, and many others. But something wasn't quite right. The chain of marks felt.… torn. Upon closer inspection, Lirael found the strands had a large rent along one of the edges. What could have caused a hole so big worried her, but it was better than finding the whole spell picked apart, she supposed.

"Right. The metal should be just down in that hole."

"Of course, Mogget. And I'm just going to climb down this sheer wall to get to it. I'll be back in a minute."

"I'm going down too if you didn't realize. But now would be a good time for you to get moving."

"Oh. Well, then would you care to share your wisdom concerning the best way to get down without dying?"

"Certainly." Mogget gave her his evil smirk. "I intend to stay in that pack on your back until you're close to the floor, then jump out so I can avoid the multiple injuries you'll certainly gain."

Lirael huffed and went back to searching for a safer way down. there. A strand of spell-web hanging down, glinting in the late afternoon sun. If she could jump, and manage to catch it, she should be able to safely swing down. If it would hold he weight.

Lirael took a deep breath and leaped. She almost forgot to keep her eyes open, but that tiny glint in the darkness of the pit was her only chance to survive now. One more foot, and she'd be able to reach it. Half a foot. She wasn't going to make it. Her fingers futilely stretched out as she passed below it. In one last attempt for her life, she reached above her head with her left hand...and caught a finger hold.

Lirael's downward momentum dragged her down quickly, ripping the ancient spell and net. The strand she grasped was tearing from the rest of the web above her, and getting longer as it did so. She couldn't tell which would happen first; the strand pull completely free of the rest of the webbing. or her land on the ground. Lirael stared at the thin cord of light, watching it unravel. She didn't even see the wall coming until she hit it, face-first. She crumpled to the ground, only two feet below her now.

Mogget was beside her when she came to, an evil sort of told-you-so look on his white furred face.

"Shut up, Mogget."

"I never said anything."

"Whatever," Lirael muttered, checking her body for any fractures or gashes. Her nose felt horrid, and she'd managed to split her lip, but otherwise she was fine.

Satisfied that she wouldn't collapse upon standing, Lirael turned to examine her surroundings. From what she could see, the pit wasn't any of those that Sabriel had once described to her. It was smaller, for one, and had several hallways branching out from it. As she rose, Lirael caught a brief glimpse of movement from the corner of her eye. Seconds later, a voice thick with Charter magic echoed through her prison. "The corrupt of the Charter walks the halls!"

Mogget trotted to her resting place, every hair bristling. "Didn't you hear that? Come on, we must find somewhere more defendable!"

She let herself be dragged forward by the cat-turned-dwarf. Her thoughts were spinning in a tight circle, picking up speed at every rotation. 'corrupt...but the Charter can't be corrupted! Only Free Magic can truly be used for bad! But it said Charter...'

"This will have to do."

Lirael came out of her reverie long enough to look around the chamber. This one had no spelled webbing above it, and there was a large pile of ash to one side. "I don't like the looks of that," she said, pointing to it.

"Would you rather be somewhere where you can be attacked from every side at once? Besides, here is where you might find part of my bell."

The last sentence alone was more than enough to make her stay. Lirael dropped to her knees and employed her senses, both normal and magical, in attempt to find some of the fragments.

"Mogget, what did it mean by corrupt in the Charter?"

"Since the magic itself cannot be perverted, it must mean one of the Blood who has turned to worse things."

"Oh. Who do you think it was then?"

"There's only two people it could be. As a Shiner, I know when someone leaves one thing for another." Lirael could have sworn she saw him puff up with self-importance. "Chlorr is one, a-"

"That's possible. Nobody knows where she is, and she hasn't been seen since before the breaking."

"And Katrel is the other."

"Katrel! Your senses must be getting old! There's no way Katrel could have left the Charter. He's an Abhorsen for Charter's sake! Abhorsens never leave their work."

"And all this time I'd thought you were too smart to be blinded by love. It seems even I am wrong about some things."

"But it can't be-" Lirael was kneeling now, looking plaintively at the dwarf.

"Think about it. Is Chlorr really that short?And yes, I know you saw him earlier. I did too."

"Let's just get the metal and get out of here."

"Very well. It's near the ashes."

As Lirael passed by the cinders, she had a sudden temptation to throw them into the air. 'This must be the wreck from Sabriel's paperwing.' She gathered up a few in a satchel.

After placing fragments of silver in a separate pouch, she persuaded Mogget to lead her to the hidden staircase. They set up a light jog back through the forest and meadow, careful not to fall into any pits. Once they were airborne, Lirael reached into a deep pocket. Checking that it didn't contain silver, she upended the little bag over the craft's side.

The paperwing lurched, then settled back into the wind to give an unimaginably smooth ride. It was faster, too, as though the enchanted paper was flying on its own, with nothing to weigh it down.

**A/N **There you go, a nice little fuzzy bit for New Year's. Just wait, there's more history, lies, and suspicions coming soon.… Just as soon as I write them! Don't worry, it won't take too long ; )


	17. Mogget's Lie

Chapter 17

Nick chased Lirael down the hall to their room. He grabbed her by the shoulders just before she wouldhave flopped down on the feather mattress.

"What's wrong with you?"

"It's Katrel." She jerked out of his grip and fell face down on the bed.

He moved to sit beside her, running a hand along her spine. "What's Katrel?"

"This whole mess." A sob rocked her prone form. "He killed Touchstone, he probably was the one to trap Sabriel, and I could have sworn it was him I saw at the Holehallow."

Nick slumped onto the bed beside her, shocked, but still deep in though. "Wait. Why would he be at Holehallow?"

"I don't know!" Her voice was so muffled by the pillows that he had to strain to hear the rest of what she said. "But some spell proclaimed him as 'the corrupt of the Charter.'"

"Are you certain it was Katrel?"

"No, but Mogget is."

He sighed. The situation was important, but comforting, Lirael had to come first, at least for now. "Shhh," he whispered to her ear. "What does that fool cat know?"

At that moment, Mogget strolled into the room. As always, he'd shown up right when he was least wanted or expected. "Actually, this 'fool cat' knows quite a bit."

Lirael turned over long enough to growl at him, "If you don't know anything immediately useful, you'd best leave."

"Oh, but I do."

"Impossible," Nick retorted at the cocky feline. "You told us you already told us everything you knew."

"I did," he taunted." Everything about the Bright Shiners. But I told you absolutely nothing of necromancers."

"And this is going to be useful information?"

"Of course."

"Fine. Get on with it."

"As I told you, each Shiner was given a bit of silver into which they spelled their powers. What I didn't tell you was what would happen if a human were to possess some of that metal."

"We already know that," Nick seethed. "Abhorsens use the bells all the time."

"It seems you are the fool here, Sayre. Don't you think the bells would be more powerful if they were the true silver we had been given? And if we had put it all into a bell, then how could new sets be created? No, the bells are but a miniscule fragment of our power. The rest has long since been tucked safely away. But we will talk about that later.

Now when a human obtains the silver, true silver, that is, even a tiny speck can work wonders. You once had such a thing in you. That is why you have always been better at Charter Magic than Lirael. That splinter of Orannis's power was in your heart for so long, some of its power was absorbed into you. And until the last drop of your blood evaporates, you will have that power. Even after there is but a speck of metal on the ground where you died, nothing will grow on that land. Take care not to be murdered in a farmer's field.

At any rate, every part of you contains him now. And when you created Katrel, that was passed on to him."

"So any child I should have would be like this?"

"No. The power only passes to the first. Orannis would not have many people using his power, even if it was so little of it. The problem is that Katrel's power is far greater than yours."

"Why?"

"Because your blood was baptized in the Charter, and the power that runs in your veins is Free Magic. The two will always be warring against each other, never allowing you to use more than half your true power. Katrel, though, was born into both the Charter and Free Magic, so he can use it to its full potential. Since he's been exposed to Free Magic, its also possible that he will, or has, discovered the other side effect."

"Which is?" There wasn't a chance Nick would let anything important pass him by this time.

"Which is that he may establish a link with Orannis."

"What do you mean by 'link'?"

"The two would be able to communicate. In Ancelstierre, you'd call it telepathy."

"Great. Not only does my son possess tremendous power, he could be talking to the...thing...that gave it to him! Not to mention that this thing, and power, are remarkable evil, and might just kill us all! Is there any good news in this?"

"Well, there is one thing." The cat twisted around his ankles, repeatedly making figure-eights. The fur tickled.

"Are you going to tell me, or stand there grinning like a Cheshire cat?"

"I have no idea what such a thing is, but I doubt I really look like one. Knowing the things you have in Ancelstierre, it's probably big, ugly, and stupid. Rather like you."

Nick swooped down a hand to grab his two front paws. The cat was soon dangling fro Nick's hand, well over five feet in the air. Even being a cat, Mogget couldn't quite land like one. He changed into a dwarf, and found his feet to still be several inches in the air. Next was an eagle, but he couldn't fly away while Nick held him. Finally, he shifted into a harmless garter snake. Nick gasped and dropped him. It hurt quite a bit, but at least he was down.

"I think I'll be going jusssst now," he hissed, and slithered under the door and back into Nick's closet. He knew of a small rat hole in there, and once through it, he'd be free!

†††

'_Orannis.'_ He felt the sudden presence of another mind within his own, and knew from his heightened senses that the one he had called was listening. '_I couldn't get the bell.'_

_'What? The voice thundered in his head, spawning a massive headache. Why not?'_

_'My mother was there. She's already gotten it.'_

_'You could have killed her.'_

_'Yrael was there. Along with more than a handful of ancient spells.'_ If Katrel was able to see who he was communicating with, Orannis would have received a withering look. He had told the boy there would be few spells, and those that were there would have been created by those impure in the blood.

'_You'll just have to get it the harder way then. Search the entire Ratterlin north of the Long Cliffs for what remains of Yrael's silver.'_

_'As you say.'_


	18. Repairing Ice

After rummaging through his entire closet, Nicholas discovered the hole. _Great. That cat could be anywhere by now._

Rather than search the house for him, Nick went to sit on his son's bed. "Katrel," he told the wall, "Where are you?"

"Talking to yourself won't do either of you any good."

"Shut up Mogget. You didn't do us that much good either."

"I might have had you not strangled me."

"I'm not strangling you now."

"Fine. I suppose it would be best to finally deal with Orannis properly."

"I'm glad you've come around to my way of thinking. Now please get on with how we can save Katrel. We can always finish Orannis later."

"Actually, I believe we'll be killing two birds with one stone. The problem with Katrel is that Orannis has infested and corrupted his mind. The problem with Orannis is that he still exists. The best, and only way to deal with both problems is to simply kill Orannis."

"You make it sound so easy, Mogget."

"Right now it is. I don't know exactly how to destroy him, so I don't have to worry about it."

Lirael slipped through the open door and closed it behind her, effectively cutting off the cat's means of escape. "And what _do_ you know about how to destroy him?"

"Since Liane's spirit is mixed inseparably with his, you'd have to use their own bell to do it. Of course, you'd have to get it off them first."

†††

It was hard to believe a year had passed since they first met. And he was still in the Glacier, one of the few fathers who'd ever stayed with their Clayr partner. And if it wasn't just sweet, fiery Firana who was bearing their child in the next room. A year gone, and he still hadn't completed what he'd set out to do. A year wasted, and the Clayr's Seeing ice still nearly useless. They hadn't even seen the baby coming until Firana's stomach was too large for it to be anything else.

_Although,_ he thought, _I do know how to fix it. I'm just to scared to._ The last several months he'd been deep in the Great Library, dredging up the most ancient books on the Clayr's Magic. When he'd finally came back to the surface with the single scroll he'd found useful, Sam had been greeted by his seven-months-pregnant wife.

Thinking back on those times, he remembered how shocked he was to see her. But he also remembered what that scroll contained. He'd only enjoyed two full nights of sleep before forcing himself back to his studies, and he hadn't had a good sleep since.

According to the manuscript, the Ice had been created when Mosrael gave a scrap of his power to the women of the north. Later, when they had moved into the Glacier, he'd returned to enchant their Ice.

The whole process had been long and complicated, and the Shiner had had to start over once after melting the ice with the heat of his magic. Mosrael had started it with the floor. It was stone, and couldn't easily be messed up. To any Shiner, it was a fairly simple spell that could easily be duplicated. Sam could even do it, though it would tax his power. But it wasn't the floor that needed fixing. It had actually gotten more powerful. All the Clayr who had gathered on that ground agreed that it made their visions clearer than ever, and they felt more unified. Sam, suspected that had happened as a side effect of the ceiling's demise.

When the heat wave from Orannis' second manifestation had melted the seeing ice, some of the spell had dripped away with the melted water. Over the months, the Ice had slowly rebuilt to its previous amount, but the magic was still washed out. He thought the small touches of magic contained within the droplets had soaked into the floor. When enough of the magic particles built up, he figured it would cause exactly the effects the Clayr had spoken of. That, and they wouldn't be able to project a thing onto the Ice.

But again, it wasn't a problem. That one little scroll had told him exactly how to fix it. And it was so easy. Physically, anyways. Mentally and ethically, it was nearly impossible. What was needed was for each of the Clayr to dip their hands into a particular substance. Then they would have to press their hands against the Ice. After every Awakened Clayr had done so, he would speak a very simple incantation to seal the power in the Ice. And just like that, it would be fixed.

The substance though, would be hard to get. It required three ingredients. Two were water from melted ice gathered at the peak of Sunfall, and the ground tooth of a drillgrub. Dangerous and difficult to get, but that was to be expected. The third, and most important, ingredient was the blood of a Clayr. Being Touchstone's son, Sam knew that powerful blood was often required in instances like this. But for every single Clayr to cover their palm entirely in the mix...whoever gave the blood would die. Not just die, but be killed and have every drop of the precious liquid drained from their body. Appalling, simply appalling. And worse yet, it couldn't be the blood of a Clayr who was so old or sick that they would soon die anyway. No, it had to be from someone who was in the prime of their life. Oddly enough, the donor had to be a true Daughter of the Clayr. Female, not a man or boy. At least it wasn't the other way around. There were few enough male Clayr as it was.

_But why, _he wondered, _does the spell demand "the blood of one who is young, powerful, and in the full blossom of life and beauty?" _It was something to sleep on. If I can sleep, that is.

**A/N **Muahahahaha! Sorry, I'm feeling a bit hyper -and evil- today. Well, well, well. The whole dirty plot comes out. Well, most of it, anyways. I can now safely say that you know the main point of the rest of this story. But with eleven chapters to go, who knows what will happen?


	19. The Perfect Coverup

"All right. So clearly you don't have anything else useful to say about Orannis. But what about Katrel? How did he get so much power? For that matter, could it happen again? Maybe even to somebody who already has a grudge against us?"

"Yes," replied Mogget. "It very well could. In fact, it would probably happen to somebody who doesn't like us very much. It happened to Hedge, for one. As for how, I've told you before. The power transfer occurs when part of a Shiner or their bell metal is absorbed by a human body. Orannis' splinter was where the three we know of got their extra power. And if someone was to bathe in the right spot on the Ratterlin, they might get some of mine."

"So, if Sam and I had touched the metal down in the well, we might have gained something from whatever bell we touched?

"No! If anything, it would kill you. If you touched Astarael, that is. The rest would just prick your fingers. If you'd been paying attention before, you would have known that an Abhorsen's bells are but a pathetic replica of our own.

"But then how would anybody get the power of any Shiner but you or Orannis? Nobody knows where the true bells are hidden, and the other Shiner's certainly aren't coming back. What if all the other bells were destroyed, and we needed another set?" As an Abhorsen, Lirael was naturally concerned for her descendants.

"You could get another set," Mogget said this in the tone that usually meant you were going to get an unexpected and decidedly nasty surprise. "But you wouldn't like the how."

"Tell us anyway," she recklessly said. "You aren't going to be here forever."

"You would need to find, or create, somebody whose blood has the power of the first seven Shiners."

"And just how would we go about creating such a person?"

"How do you think?" The cat sat back on his haunches and smirked.

Lirael's face took on the color of a freshly picked strawberry. "But ... but we're related! Distantly, but still..."

"All the more reason not to lose the ones you do have."

"Anyways," she said, clearing her throat. "Should we need to go, there, where and how is the rest of their power stored?"

"Admittedly, we weren't very creative on that count. Their metal is in the shape of bells, though a hundred times larger than your own. As for where, they are beyond the stars."

†††

_'Orannis,'_ he called, and soon was answered by his presence._ 'Why do we need Yrael's bell anyway? Its cold here, and it'll take forever to get down all these stairs.'_

_"Would you rather bring me Yrael himself?'_

_'Sure, he can't turn into anything useful.'_

_'The correct answer was no._'

Katrel suddenly felt like he'd run into a glass wall, and knew Orannis had severed their link.

†††

"Right," Lirael said after clearing her throat yet again. So has anyone actually tried to absorb power directly from a Shiner?"

"Twice." The cat swished his tail in obvious agitation. "Both failed."

'Twice,' she thought, tapping a pen against her lips. _'One's almost certainly when someone got that shard from Orannis, but the other...'_

She sat up straight in her seat. "Did Kerrigor try to absorb you?"

"Yes. Not that it would have worked even if the former Abhorsen had been there."

_'Prideful old cat. He just won't admit that he was in trouble. From Sabriel's story, he was next to gone before she used the ring._ Her pen froze in mid-tap.

_'But if Kerrigor was trying to gain his power, why did he have to destruct the Charter first? With the power of a Shiner, that would have been simple. And yet he went for destruction first. That would have doubled the difficulty.' _Try as she might, Lirael couldn't accept that Kerrigor was just not that dumb. If he was, it would have been far easier to catch him. _'Unless..._

_There had been no Abhorsen when Kerrigor broke the Great Stones. Another would have been split if there was. That, and the Abhorsen could have preserved the lines of the rest of the family. But if there wasn't an Abhorsen, who bound Touchstone? And just as importantly, why?' _It seemed a good time to use the dark mirror.

"Goodbye, Mogget," she chimed. Once the door was shut behind her, Lirael allowed a small laugh to escape. The cat would be going half mad wondering why she was being so cordial.

Not half an hour later, she was on the other side of the river, though rather sodden from her use of the stepping stones. At least she could enter into Death here.

But what to see first? If something, or someone pursued her, she'd likely have to leave the rest for another day. She could banish one or two with her bells, but that would only beckon more, and she could not entirely rid Death of its inhabitants. She settled on seeing them in chronological order. The Third Precinct would be far enough for the first viewing, but there was the threat of waves. Fourth Precinct it was, then.

Even as she breached the border, she could feel something coming towards her. It lunged from the water while her eyes were adjusting to the dim light. The spirit was vaguely snake-shaped, she realized, but that took no more thought that did the flick of her sword that dismembered it sinuous form. The less she used magic, the better.

Luckily, the rest of her journey was uneventful, and the Fourth Precinct was nearly empty of Dead. Lirael slid the Dark Mirror from its pouch at her waist and pressed the catch. A quick touch to the edge of her blade, and a drop of blood spread across the mirror's dark surface. "The Charter was once ... crippled," she said. "I would see how this was done." Once again the suns of years past danced by her eyes. They were a familiar sight now, but what came next shocked her. There was Touchstone, and a man that could have been his twin but for the unnatural light in his eyes. They were with a woman who was surely their mother, the Queen. And they were headed toward the reservoir. Dread welled up in her stomach. She knew what had happened next, but that didn't make it any easier to keep watching. Already she could make out Rogir's dark-cowled sorcerers. On the far side of the reservoir, the Queen and a few guards were harried onto the barge.

Lirael could almost hear Rogir's thoughts. _'Two for the blood, two for the breaking.'_ A sickening giggle was halted before it could reach his lips. He stepped forward, offering a hand to his mother. The gesture turned into a vise-grip on both her hands. His other hand came up, wielding the saw-toothed knife. In an instant the Queen's throat was sliced, blood spilling into the cup Rogir held.

From nowhere, a sword whizzed past the Queen to impale him. Touchstone stepped into sight, face contorted with shock and rage. Rogir laughed. "You can destroy this body, brother. But you can never kill me."

Bells rang from the stairwell. Rogir screamed in pure agony. Already slipping into Death, he cast a spell to take Touchstone's spirit with him.

He stopped himself just short of the First Gate. _'He's too strong now.'_ The thought rang clear with truth in Lirael's head. _'I'll have to return later, when I'm not weakened.'_ Rogir cast another spell to trap his brother's spirit beneath the surface of the river. _'Now, to secure the body...' _ He pushed back into Life, but found his body skewered by the Abhorsen's sword. He retreated hastily, then returned. This time it was Touchstone's body he occupied. Rogir crept up the stairs, eyes tearing appropriately just in case anyone should notice him.

A good thing he did, for the Abhorsen laid a hand on his shoulder on the way up. Without thinking, Rogir freed Touchstone's blade and slew him. He took the rest of the steps at a run. There would be questions if the blood was seen on his sword.

The scene faded, and Lirael clicked the mirror shut. Perhaps she would have to go farther into Death after all. The Fifth Precinct called, and she would answer it.


	20. Firana's Farewell Part I

'_If he thinks he's going to keep me out of this, he's got another thought coming.' _ Firana marched up the rest of the stairs and burst through their door. Sam was crossing another name off that infernal list of his. She would never have gotten it for him had she known its purpose. She'd finally heard of it from Tayle this morning. Or last night...The watch did have a terrible way of making time run together.

"Isn't it awful?" She'd had to go and ask what was so bad. "Why, how Sameth is going to repair the Ice, of course," the girl had replied. "At least he crossed me off the list." Tayle must have taken in the mix of confusion and horror on her face. "Don't worry, I'm sure you've been crossed out too."

Oh, she was sure she had been. That was certain, with the way he kept her from knowing about it for so long. And then she'd realized she didn't even know what was going to happen. Or what the list was for. She'd had to ask Tayle about that too. The man was going to get it, that was as certain as death and visions.

At that moment, the Sight hit her like a run away horse. She saw herself, with a dagger piercing her heart and another coming towards her throat. Her vision-self didn't look to be much older than she already was, either. It faded, and she stumbled forward a few steps before catching herself by slamming her hands onto Sam's desk.

"Firana! Why are you back so soon? I'd expected you to be gone for at least another day."

"I'm back because I couldn't focus my visions. Do you know why that is?"

"Because of the broken ice?" Sam gave her the innocent smile she had fallen in love with, but even that would not calm her now.

"No. It's because my husband has been planning to kill one of us for days, and hasn't even had the good grace to tell me about it!"

Inside, Sam wanted to cower under the desk and weave a diamond of protection around himself. But that would only result in her becoming even more angry. All he could do was sit there and take it. Standing might be an advantage, but she would see it as a challenge. He would just be perfectly still and silent. She had to run out of breath sometime. Unless she started in on questions. He had to hope she would not begin with the questions.

She sighed. Something was wrong. Firana couldn't possibly be done yet. Unless...oh, boy. It was going to be a long night. Then she spoke, in a voice as tired as he'd ever heard her. "How are you going to do it?"

"Do what," he asked, wondering at this sudden change.

"Kill them, get the blood, everything. Just tell me how."

If she was still on that subject, she should still hold at least a note of anger in her voice. Yet there was only the fatigue, and perhaps a hint of worry. "I suppose I'll use a spell to end it painlessly," he replied. "And them I'll have to hang them over a large basin with the other ingredients in it. I'll likely need to cut open both their throats and heart to get the blood in any decent amount of time. "Wh--"

"Oh Charter," she cut in. "It's me."

"What's you?"

"The blood you need. It's mine."

"You can't know that."

"It is a grace, or perhaps a curse, of the Sight to show us our time and way of death as one of our last visions. I saw myself die just as you have described."

Sam couldn't help but admire how she sat there, so ready to give everything she had for her people. But he couldn't let her do it. "No."

"You must use me. The death visions are never wrong. If you don't I'll surely be murdered like that. You would spare me such a fate, wouldn't you?"

As always, she had a new excuse just when he thought he'd heard everything. And he couldn't deny her of that. Not when everything he had heard agreed with what she said. But he did have one last card to play. "What about our daughter?"

"You and Alina will be fine without me. She can go with you when you leave, then return when her visions begin. Until then, I'm sure you'll make a fine father."

"It would be better if she had both of us."

"She can't, and you know that as well as I."

A knock at the door made them both jump. A girl no more than eight poked her head in. "I have your powdered drill grub tooth, Prince Sameth."

"Bring it in," he replied. In the next room, Alina wailed.

†††

Lirael stepped onto the ribbon of night that marked the Fifth Precinct. She took a few more steps before opening the mirror again. "I would see why Torrigan was more powerful than his elder brother, when the brother should have had the upper hand."

As time rolled backwards, Lirael got the feeling that she was going father back than the last time. It was something she'd started noticing after viewing the original Binding. It was likely just a gift of Remembrancers, but she couldn't remember the book saying anything about it...

Her attention snapped back to the mirror when she noticed a distant figure striding across a lawn. "Over here, Leum," called someone from out of her field of vision. "Under the apple tree." The image swung to show a woman in her early thirties. She was quite lovely, with light brown curls cascading to her shoulders. It swung back to the man, Leum, and she noticed the fine house behind them. All three stories were made entirely of stone, stone that glimmered with millions of charter marks. Then Lirael took a better look at his surcoat. Sure enough, it was the same as Sam's, with a golden trowel, the symbol of the Wallmakers, embroidered on it. She didn't need to see any more. This Leum fellow was clearly Touchstone's father, and the woman she knew to be the Queen. Lirael closed the mirror and left Death. The other viewings could wait.

**A/N **Gosh, I'm almost kinda sad. Not just that my had is being forced to destroy another character, but that this tale is mostly over. Only another ten chapters, and one of those filler! Then again, look at how much has happened in the last ten...


	21. Firana's Farewell Part II

The funeral was held next morning . I't was long and overly flowery,as they often are when planned by a large group of women. Sam could not honestly believe that a single person cried during the event, as overdone as it was. Just one more day, and Firana would be gone. Forever. But she just sat there, no blinking an eye. He almost laughed at sudden realization. She would likely be the only person ever to go to her own funeral.

They walked back to their rooms hand in hand, enjoying their last moments together. When they arrived they just sat and stared at the floor or around the room for what seemed to be an eternity. At last, she caught his eyes. "I suppose we should get on with it then."

"You're right. But-"

"Just do it. You've already said it won't hurt, and I'm ready."

A sigh of resignation escaped Sam's lips. "Would you like me to put you to sleep before...before..." he let the sentence hang, unable to finish it.

"That would be nice. Here, I'll lay down." He wove the spell over her, adding a mark to make the process gradual just in case she should change her mind. As her eyes were closing, Firana pulled his head close to her own. Sam's heart raced. Perhaps she really had changed her mind. Perhaps-

"I'll wait for you on the other side," she whispered. "Goodnight, my love." She fell into a deep sleep. Sam could hear a faint snore, if he listened close enough. He cast more marks over her then, marks for death. It was a gentle death though, one that instantaneously stopped all other organs, but left the heart beating. He could hear it now, in the silence of the room. _'Funny, that I should only hear it now that she is gone.' _

After a time, he hung her body over the trough he had been given. Sam cut through her throat, allowing a thick stream of blood to clatter into the tank.

_'Charter, but I hate this,' _he thought as he pushed the dagger into her chest. Sam rocked it back and forth so the wound would stay open. _'At least it's a clean wound. I doubt I could stand doing much more to her.' _

Once he had made all the necessary cuts, he knelt by the trough. Sam tried to focus on remembering where the other supplies were, but soon his tears flowed freely o join the pooling crimson. _'It's not as though a little extra water will ruin the mixture. When I make it, that is."_

It was nearly midnight when he finally rose. The baby had been crying for at least an hour, and it was beginning to grate on his already frayed nerves. Sam lifted Alina from her cradle and rocked her on his shoulder for a while before facing the diaper. He held his breath as he pulled it open. How did such small things smell this bad? He put the offending item as far from his nose as possible while still keeping one hand on the baby. Sam put a fresh cloth on her, and she gurgled for a moment before wailing again. _"What more does she want? I've already rocked her, she's got a clean diaper, she can't need to be burped because she hasn't had any...' _He groaned. Milk was the one thing he didn't have. Sam snatched a blanket from the chest near the bed, wrapped the bay up, then leaned her on his shoulder before heading out the door.

He took the stairs at a trot. The extra bouncing seemed to keep Alina happy. She'd stopped making that racket right next to his ear, at any rate. He got to the Lower Refectory only to find that no one was there. Nobody, not even a lone girl peeling potatoes. It appeared this night was made to trouble him.

Sam set Alina down, looked around one last time, then clambered over the counter. It was higher than he expected, and he had to cast about with his foot to find a solid surface. He found one just to his left and shifted onto it, only to tumble to the floor when the stack of potatoes he had tried to stand on fell.

After scraping potato mush into the trash and gathering the remaining vegetables into a small pile, he began searching through the kitchens. Sam looked through what must have been every cupboard and cabinet before spotting a single bottle of milk behind several large sacks of flour. No doubt there were more elsewhere, but this was all he needed for now. He took his trophy and daughter and headed back upstairs.

When morning came, Sam mixed the melt-water and ground tooth into the blood. He gave Firana the last rites while he was waiting for someone to come and help him carry the trough. The fire winked out just as the door opened. It was Jondwyn, one of the few male Clayr. "Ready then?"

Sam grasped one side of the trough and motioned to the other in reply. Jondwyn lifted it and backed out the door. They continued in this fashion until he nearly bumped into the axe guard. There, they were replaced by four women. Jondwyn led Sam in ahead of him, blindfolded, of course.

When they reached the Observatory, a line was already forming. Jondwyn moved to join the line, and Sam positioned himself in the center of the room. Within minutes, he heard the heavy footsteps of the women carrying the trough. There was a clang, and the first red-handed woman pressed her hand to the Ice. It was an hour before the room was filled and the ice virtually painted bright red. Sam placed his hands against the Ice, mentally wincing as the excess blood squelched beneath his fingers. He rushed through the incantation, eager to leave and wash his hands. Twice, he nearly said an incorrect mark that could have had devastating results. But as soon as he spoke the final mark, the Ice seemed to spring open and swallow the fluid. It soaked right off their fingers and was absorbed by the Ice. A moment more, and the Ice shone with a brightness to rival the sun. Once the glow faded, the Clayr began their ritual.

The already faint hum of a Charter spell was drowned out as their hands joined in a thunderclap. There was a tide of murmurs, but all fell silent as their individual shard of the future were joined together and projected onto the ceiling.

Sam recognized Lirael immediately, but not what she held. It was a bell of some sort, that was certain, but the handle was striped in all the colors of the rainbow. Whatever it was, she rang it and Saraneth in concert. The world turned dark for a moment, and the ground shook till it seemed it would crumble like stale bread. Then a slowly widening strip of light appeared. The light was made of menacing reds and oranges,though, nothing like the pure light of the sun. Sam realized with a shock that the light had to to be Orannis and Liane. For their light to show, the metal would have to be off of them. Saraneth and another bell. Those two together would do it. The light stopped expanding. For a moment the column twisted, as though it were looking for something. Then a voice boomed out of the inferno, a man's shout of shock with an undertone of a woman's scream. "Thieves!"

The vision faded.

**A/N ** Sorry about the ridiculous wait. If things aren't falling apart lately, they're being fixed. With a touch of luck, the next chapter should be out by the end of the month. s


	22. Oh, the Sarcasm

Sam said his goodbyes over breakfast the next morning. He hadn't been friendly with many people during his time in the Glacier, but there were some. People like Jondwyn, the sole Clayr he had revealed is plans to. It didn't matter that it had spread from him to the rest of the Clayr. Looking back, Sam realized that they deserved to know, and Jondwyn had just served as the bearer of bad news. Besides, he had been there for most of the night, helping Sam with things he didn't even know Firana had had to do.

Once he'd returned hugs, handshakes, and well-wishes, he slipped out. Sam went back to his room, changed Alina's diaper one last time, and wrapped her up in everything but the shirt on his back. Paperwing flights were cold for him; he didn't even want to think about what they'd be like for a baby. A freshly heated bottle of milk joined his small pile of possessions before Sam gathered them up and strode out the door. This place fairly reeked of bad memories now, and he wished to leave them behind as soon as was possible.

†††

Lirael ran down the stairs with a hand on her stomach. She dearly hoped it wasn't going to empty itself...again. But as she reached the bathroom door, a sending tapped her shoulder and indicated that someone was at the door. Glancing sideways, she saw that Nick was still asleep. She groaned, but went down the next flight of stairs. Why did the observatory have to be so far above the ground?

Lirael's stomach gave one final heave as she opened the door. Her visitor quickly sidestepped, avoiding the putrid mess that covered her azaleas. Lirael looked up to find Sam still awkwardly holding her hair. "Sorry," she said. "It's the pregnancy."

"You're having another baby?"

"Yes, and far more troublesome than the last, I'm afraid."

"I certainly hope not."

Lirael frowned. "Enough of that. What about yours? The messagehawks didn't saw much."

"Oh! I left her up in the paperwing. Didn't want to drop her on the way down, and the sendings insisted I come in through the front door." A tint came to his cheeks and she sighed. Some of those sendings really did need to be destructed.

Her stomach having quieted itself, Lirael trotted out to the platform with surprising agility. A baby as young as Alina couldn't be left in the cold for long, after all. Once she reached the paperwing, though, she saw the child was wrapped up nice and tightly. Not even the mist that always surrounded the platform could have penetrated the layers of blankets. Perhaps Sam really would make a good father. Lirael shook her head to rid herself of the sudden thought. She might be his aunt, but she certainly didn't have to act like it. He'd always felt like more of a brother, or a close friend.

She picked up the bundle and headed back inside. Sam would be up the stairs by now. She wondered why he hadn't just left Alina with her mother. It would have been far safer. Then again, maybe he'd just wanted to show her off. The prince had always been a bit of a braggart.

Lirael found him in the study, contentedly flipping through a book of Charter marks. He looked up when the door clicked hut, eyes gleaming with an unspoken jest. "So you did make it up the ladder. I thought you wouldn't be able to reach the rungs past your belly."

She gave him a withering look, then laughed and shifted the baby to a more comfortable position. "Where's your wife?"

"She was a part of the Watch when I left, and couldn't come," he half-lied. Firana was, technically, part of the Watch, just not as one of the watchers.

"Oh," she replied. "That's too bad. I suppose it means you've fixed the Ice, though, right?"

"Yes, about that... They had a vision right after I repaired it. A vision about you."

Lirael swallowed. The only other vision she'd been in had ended with a battle against Orannis, and the loss of her best friend. She inhaled deeply before speaking. "Continue."

"I think...you freed Orannis. But you freed him completely, where Orannis had tried to free only a little of himself."

"Well, that's a future that probably won't happen. I can't see any reason why I'd do such a thing."

"You'd do that," said Mogget, who was sliding out from behind a bookshelf, "so you could destroy him. Right now, he is merely bound, and lightly at that. But if you were to ring a bell made of the metal he's bound in within his hearing, he would die. Even if he were to suck the Life out of every other being in Death, that bell's tolls would chase him far beyond the ninth gate. But of course, you'd have to free him to get the metal for the bell."

"Well," Lirael replied after a moment's thought. "That certainly explains the why, but I suppose I'm not lucky enough for you to know the how as well, am I?"

"No," the cat mused. "I suppose you're not."

"I think," said Sam, "I might have the answer to that. In the vision, you were ringing two bells just before it happened. One was Saraneth, but I don't have an inkling as to what the other was. I remember the handle was striped, though I've never heard of any bell like that."

Mogget's ears perked up at the mention of a striped handle. "The bell's size didn't change, did it?"

"Now that you mention it, the bell did seem to get a bit bigger when she started to ring it."

"It's as I thought then. The bell is mine. He handle is made of toucan bill. You'll need to forge the bell and it's handle if you want to destroy Orannis and Liane." A pink tongue ran across his lips at the thought of tropical birds.

"And where, exactly, are we supposed to get a toucan's bill? I've never even heard of a toucan."

"In Olmond. You'd best get going if you want to be there by dusk."


	23. Birdbrained

"What do you mean, 'I'd best get moving'? You're coming too, you know."

"I see no reason why I should be forced to traipse along behind you," the cat retorted.

"You are coming along just so we can be sure you're not sending us off on a wild goose chase, which I really wouldn't put past you."

"Whatever you say then. There _are_ toucans in Olmond, and I _will _have one for dinner."

"Good. Go get in the paperwing then. Sam and I will be there soon."

"You'd better be," Mogget said forlornly.

An hour later, they were flying over the Great Sickle Wood in two paperwings. Nick had finally woken up just as the three were about to leave, and was now riding behind Lirael in the blue and silver vessel. "So," she chimed, happy to be floating on the wind. "Have you come around to paperwings, then? I haven't heard a single complaint out of you."

"I suppose one can get used to anything after a decade of it," he shouted over the wind. Lirael shrugged, and leaned further back in the hammock-seat.

Sam's trip was much less enjoyable. He was distracted by Mogget every few minutes, and once had to look away altogether to quiet Alina. They were less than halfway to Olmond, and he already felt a headache pooling behind his eyes. Sam set a spell to make the paperwing follow Lirael's, then settled back, fully intent on a nap.

When he opened ;his eyes, the craft was swooping down into a clearing in the middle of a forest. The clearing was small, and the only clear land he could see. But there was something different about this place, something he just couildn't put his finger on.

They touched down with a slight bump and skidded to a halt just short of a huge tree. Flashes of color shot into the forest from the tree, almost before he even saw them. At last he discovered what had so puzzled him while he was still airborne. It was the sound of the place. In the space of a minute, he heard at least ten bird calls he'd never so much as imagined hearing in the rest of the Kingdom or Ancelstierre, and that was just the beginning. There was also a strange chittering that he could only assume was the monkeys Mogget had been muttering about. Apparently, they were pesky and unpredictable beasts that liked nothing more than stealing his fish. He felt a tap on his shoulder, and nearly jumped when he saw Lirael standing beside the paperwing. Lying simply didn't suit him. He'd have to tell her soon, lest he give himself a heart attack.

Sam swung one leg over the side and felt the ground squelch beneath his feet. It must have rained recently. He craned his neck back to stare at the sky, feeling remarkably ignorant for not noticing its condition earlier. Instead of the near-black he had anticipated, Sam found only a thiick white haze above him. He mentally smacked himself aggain. Fog had to be the simplest thing to notice, short of one pf Ancelstierre's fabled windstorms.

There was a sound much than the croaking of frogs, and Mogget's ears perked up. "That's a toucan's call. Get your stones ready."

"What stones?"

"Well, how did you think you were goig to catch it?"

''Hm. I didn't think of that," Lirael admitted. "To be honest, I can't really throw worth a penny. Certainly not hard enough to throw anything. What about you, Sam?"

"I expect I could hurl it hard enough, but I've got no sense of aim when I throw." He fell silent for a moment, tapping a finger against his chin while he thought. Hs strolled to the tree, obviously still deep in thought. He stopped a few feet short and bent to pick up a thick branch that had fallen. "No aim with my hands, but with a bat.… Can you bowl?"

"Bowl?"

"Yes, like in cricket."

"I've never heard of that," she replied.

"It's simple. Just throw a rock at me when the bird shows up again. I'll do the rest. Nick, you watch for it."

Sam saw a miniature rainbow flash between the trees just as Nick said, "Throw!" Lirael threw, and Sam angled the bat to send it into the sky. As soon as he could reach it, Sam swung, sending the stone rocketing into the bird. It squawked, and fell to the ground.

"Yum," said Mogget.

"Err... Lirael, I don't really want to take the whole bird home. Do you have any ideas on removing the beak? I didn't bring my pocketknife," Sam asked after a thorough search of his pockets.

Lirael unsheathed her sword. "Nick, you do the honors. You know I can't stand killing things that are still alive, and that stone only broke its bones." She handed him the blade.

"Of course," he replied. He strolled into the forest with Mogget trailing behind. Nick returned a few minutes later, bill in hand. The cat was nowhere in sight. Lirael grimaced. It would take quite a few baths to wash the blood out of his coat. "Looks like we're going to be here for a while," she mused. "So, how are you going to make it?"

"Make what?"

"The bell, of course."

"Oh," he said, and let out a small sigh of relief. He thought she'd been wondering how he'd make it without Firana. In truth, he wondered that himself from time to time. "Well, we have to get the silver first, you know."

"Oh! Didn't I tell you? I have it right here." Lirael pulled a leather pouch from her belt and gently tossed it to him.

"In that case, I'll just need to construct heatproof gloves, melt the silver till it's moldable, and shape the metal around the handle. Quite simple, really." He fell silent, thinking again. "Err, Lirael, there's something I need to tell you..." The way her hair whipped in the wind reminded him so much of Firana on the many trips they had taken to the summit of Starmount that he almost didn't tell her again. But it as too late now, he'd dug himself a hole too deep. Now he'd have to... "I killed her."

"What?! Who?" If there was ever a thing to snap her out of a reverie, that was it. He head popped up like a jack-in-the-box.

"Firana! I'm sorry, I don't know why I told you. There was no reason to... Forgive me."

Lirael doubted he knew any more than she did just what he was asking her to forgive. A solitary tear slipped down his cheek, and she moved to put a comforting arm about his shoulders. Nick looked scandalized. "Oh, do be quiet, Nick. Can't you see he's grieving?" Nonetheless, Sam pushed her away, not wanting to cause a scene. "Sorry, Lirael. It just didn't seem right to not tell you. You as well, Nick."

Mogget chose that time to come trotting back. Surprisingly enough, his fur was spotless.

**A/N ** Sorry folks, but there probably won't be any updates for at least two weeks. I'll be losing a couple friends and on vacation, so anything I write would probably be pretty crappy anyways. You never know though. Maybe if our hotel has really good high-speed.…...


	24. Not a Drop to Drink

"Right," Sam said after a moment of silence. "We have both the silver and the bell, so we may as well begin looking for a forge."

"A forge?"

"Yes, to heat the metal."

"I know _that,_" Nick said, "but why? Can't you just heat it magically?"

"No. I'm afraid that I can't quite handle doing that and working the needed spells on the silver."

"So there _is _something you can't do! I knew it! I just knew there had to be something!"

Sam gave his friend a jab in the side. "Watch it, or I'll decide I can't keep the bugs off you either." His face cracked into a smug grin while Nick's smile melted. They both knew there was something about his blood that mosquitoes just couldn't stay away from.

"You'd really better watch it, Nicholas," Mogget added. "We're headed to the Long Cliffs next."

"Urggh," he groaned, just as Sam asked, "Why?"

Mogget ignored Nick's protest and answered the question. "Because you have exactly half the metal and you will need the greatest part to make the bell."

"I still don't see what this has to do with the Long Cliffs."

"You honestly haven't seen it yet. I thought Kibeth would have given it away with all her banter. 'Three thousand steps for water, but not a drop to drink.' I very nearly retrieved it right then and there," the cat remarked.

Lirael made a strangled sound in her throat. Dog had been gone for years, decades really, but she still wanted to strangle Mogget for speaking of her so. Strangle him, and perhaps throw him in the river when they got there. Instead, she simply said, "Let's go, then." It was nearly a full minute before she realized that everyone was staring at her as though she had gone mad. "What?"

"The sun's only three fingers from the horizon. We won't even make it to Hafmet before full dark, and you know the paperwings won't fly at night."

"Oh. I don't know how I forgot the time. In that case, I suppose we'd best make camp."

"Make a camp if you want," Mogget yawned. "I'll be in the paperwing. This land is far too squishy." Lirael stamped the ground experimentally before deciding that she, too, would sleep in the paperwing. She climbed in, tore a blanket out of her pack, and said goodnight before trying to get comfortable in the small space.

They were airborne again bright and early the next morning. Moments after waking, they had roused themselves enough to whistle up a wind strong enough to carry them to the Long Cliffs in a matter of an hour or so. Sure enough, they arrived before the sun was more than four fingers above the horizon. Lirael felt her heart drop a little lower in her chest when she realized that the space below the steps was, indeed, too small as small as she remembered. :They would have to face the steps again. She heard a sigh from behind her as Nick noticed the same thing. Like Sam, he was decently athletic from his years of playing cricket, but it would take a madman to look forward to trudging down three thousand steps.

In the other paperwing, Sam was searching for any way to get out of going down those steps. After all, once they had retrieved the fragments of silver, they would have to climb back up. "Mogget, are you certain it's in that part of the river? Is there absolutely none of it elsewhere? Up here, for instance.

"No, and you'd best be glad there's not."

"Why," Sam asked.

"Because it would already be gone by now if there was."

"Gone? Who would have taken it?"

"Who do you think," the cat replied sarcastically. For the first time, Sam noticed a black-cloaked figure a few hundred yards upriver. "No...," he said. "That can't be..." Regardless of his own words, he vaulted over the side of the paperwing and ran to Lirael's. He tapped her shoulder to distract her from the conversation she was holding with Nick, then pointed upstream and voiced a single word. "Katrel."

Lirael was out of the vessel and sprinting up the riverbank before he could blink. Evidently, he wasn't the only one whose eyes were glued to her. As he watched her run, the the shadowy figure raised a hooded head. Before Lirael was more than halfway there, Katrel lept over the edge of the cliff. His cloak billowed up like an Ancelstierrian parachute, but Sam knew it would be far less effective. His gaze was still fixed on the horrific scene when he noticed Nick run by out of the corner of his eye, a mix of dreadful emotions written across his face.

"Well," Mogget drawled, "That certainly got them moving." Sam paused to give the cat a withering look before chasing after his relatives. Mogget waited a few moments before following at a leisurely pace.

Sam caught up to find them peering over the edge of a sheer cliff. Instead of the expected scene of death, he saw a thin ledge ten or so feet below. It was about three feet wide, stuck out less than two from the face of the cliff, and looked like it would crumble if anyone so much as bounced on it.

"Do we follow?" Nick's question was slow and halting. Evidently, he had also noticed the ledge's fragility.

"Yes!" Lirael,on the other hand, looked ready to take her chances with crumbly ledges and pursue her son. She tensed, about to make the jump.

"Wait a moment, Lirael!" Sam called out while rooting through his pack. "I've got something in here that should let us get down there without killing ourselves."

She sighed exasperatedly and tapped a foot while she waited. It was only a few seconds before Sam triumphantly held up what appeared to be a small silver box.

"I'm sure that will make a wonderful landing pad, Sameth, but if you don't mind..." Lirael again prepared herself to make the jump.

"If you would just give me a minute..." He grasped the box by a thin piece of rope sticking out of one end and shook it. As he shook, the rope seemed to grow until the silver box clinked down onto the ledge. Sam followed this up by speaking a few marks nobody recognized. A ledge identical to the one below appeared about a foot in front of them, and Sam stepped onto it before indicating the other three to do the same. Once they were on, he spoke another mark that caused them to descend. It halted just above the silver box, and the group disembarked. Sam released the end of the string he had held up till then, and the box sucked it back inside. As a group, they stepped into the tunnel that had been carved into the side of the cliff. The magical ledge became transparent and seeped into the stone beneath it,leaving only a shimmering sheen of marks behind.

Once even that faded, they turned back to the tunnel. It became very dark farther inside, but there was a pinprick of light in the distance. It had to be a second way out, and where Katrel was headed. Lirael went with her only option and walked farther into the cave, one hand on her sword and the other hovering over Saraneth. She knew the cold, prickly feeling in the air to be her death sense warning her of danger. She could only hope that-No. She had clearly seen Katrel's eyes in the second before he jumped. From that one glimpse, she knew that he was no Dead thing. And yet that confirmed her worst fears. If Katrel was not one of the Dead, he must have summoned a Dead spirit. She wanted to cry at the thought; her son, a necromancer. Lirael held back the tears and pushed forward, her senses on high alert. The group walked in silence, footsteps echoing off the moist walls.

"Arrgh!"

Lirael whipped around,marks for destruction ready on her tongue and a hand fumbling at the bandolier's leather strap.

"Sorry," Nick mumbled. "Whacked my foot on a rock."

She sighed in relief, then immediately tensed again. Whatever the Dead thing was was closer, much closer. She could feel every tiny hair on the nape of her neck stand on end. Slowly, she turned, and -

"Jerrum! Cannal!" A silver spike whizzed past her head, and a shriek cam from just behind her left ear. At last, Saraneth came free of its bindings. Lirael rang it loudly, allowing its bold tones to chase the Morduat beyond the Ninth Gate. "Thank you, Nick. I never would have caught that in time."

"Tricky, that," Sam muttered. "They used a Morduat in the hope that its slight degree of intelligence would allow it to avoid you. Sneaky, and rather wise."

"However wise it was, the fact that it had time to get on that stalactite proves Katrel is almost certainly a fair distance ahead of us. We should get moving again." She continued on, now at a quick jog. The light was still dim, but she could tell they were getting closer. Lirael was still hurrying towards the exit when she crashed into a wall. Once she'd recovered from the rebound, she discovered that the exit she had been running towards was actually a glowing circle of spells traced on what appeared to be a door. She tugged on a bit of rock carved to resemble a handle, but to no avail. She reached toward the spell-circle, certain it was the key to getting inside.

"Lirael, I don't think you should-"

The tips of her fingers brushed it, and the spell pulled her hand to the door. Katrel's voice issued from the circle, loud and clear for all to hear. "Mother," he said, but the word contained no affection. "Abhorsen. Whichever you prefer. As you have no doubt guessed, I am beyond this door. A light pull on the handle would open it, but the very spell you are listening to is also keeping the door shut. Please don't try to break it. I doubt the Wallmaker could, and anyone of lesser power would certainly die trying to do so. One of us will perish the next time we meet, but I would like you to have a more honorable death than you would trying to open this door. Farewell, Mother. Perhaps we will meet again in a month or so."

"No," she whispered. "No!"

**A/N **Well,this chapter turned out much differently than I expected. One night at the hotel, I was thinking about this story while trying to fall asleep when Katrel pretty much took control of my mind. From the point Mogget pointed him out, I accomplished absolutely nothing I set out to do in this chapter. The next day was devoted almost entirely to figuring out the scenes and writing rather than visiting with family. Oh well, sometimes it's fun to have you mind controlled by a character. :P


	25. Search for a Forge

"Lirael, get your hand off that door."

"No," she retorted, almost childishly. "I will get through. Katrel's past there."

"Didn't you hear? You'll die if you try. Now, please, let go. I don't like the idea of you touching Free Magic.

Lirael snatched her hand away as though it had been burned. She hadn't even noticed the waves of nausea that now racked her body. She never remembered the walk out of the cave. The next she knew, she was standing in bright sunlight, leaning heavily on Nick while Sam put his device to work. He waved them onto the platform, and they began the long descent. It went faster and faster until it came to an abrupt halt that sent the group to their knees. "Sorry, still a few bugs to work out."

"Clearly," Mogget drawled.

"At any rate, we're down here. Now, where's the silver supposed to be?"

"Pushy, pushy. We've still got a ways to walk since somebody wen off chasing boys. What's left of it will be left under that boulder." He raised a slim paw to point at a speck a half mile away.

"Wonderful," Lirael replied enthusiastically. "You can swim there." Before he could dart away, Lirael grabbed Mogget by the scruff of his neck and tossed him in the river. "There," she pronounced. "Now we can walk in peace."

And so they did, save for the occasional bout of laughter when a particularly large wave washed over the cat's head. When they reached the stone, Nick volunteered to take the plunge. He resurfaced seconds later to raucous laughter. "What?" His answer came from above when he shook his head in an attempt to dry his hair. Something resembling a white rat went flying, yowling the whole time it was airborne. Nick grinned. "Shall we leave him?"

"Yes," Sam and Lirael replied in unison. They started up, and were nearly to the thousandth step, or so Nick claimed, when Mogget caught up, looking distinctly fluffier than the last time they'd seen him. He continued up till he was several steps ahead of them, then stopped to finish drying himself. Lirael gave him an evil grin when she passed, and swung a foot out as though she planned to knock him off the cliff. Her plan worked; Mogget jumped right into the nearby thornbush.

"Is that all you have planned, or should I wait before pulling these out?" He mumbled, having already set to work.

"For now," Lirael said with a smile.

Two endless hours later, they crested the final step. "Well," huffed Lirael, leaning on her knees as best she could. "What's next?"

"As I was saying last night, we'll need a good forge. The only ones strong enough that I know of are in Ancelstierre and the amount of magic would certainly corrode the furnaces to the point of being absolutely useless."

"So... We'll have to build one?"

"No! Almost certainly not. We just need to fly low and slowly over the kingdom until we find one."

"But you just said-"

"That there weren't any that I know of. That still leaves a lot of them, especially in the far north."

The far north... Lirael could have sworn there was something about that place she should remember, but couldn't quite do so.

"Mind if I ride with Mogget this time? I don't believe I've had a good chance to bug him yet," Nick inquired.

"That would be good. Sam needs someone to fly his paperwing anyway, and you two should probably head back to the house to make sure the sendings aren't doing anything too horrible to Alina. Which one do you want?"

He answered by climbing into the green one, followed by Mogget who emitted a long and sorrowful groan. Nick grinned, and both paperwings rose into the sky.

Before long, the sky above them was mottled with tiny white clouds, and the ground turned into a hundred endless farms. Together, they looked much like the first quilt she'd had as a child. It had had the same earthy colors, and, if she tried hard enough, Lirael could almost remember her mother making it for her. Of course, that was all behind her now. She'd gladly left the security and safety of the glacier to begin a struggle against the most powerful force in the world. Nevermind that she hadn't a clue what she was doing, the job was hers and so it would stay.

Lirael had just relaxed into the gently passing pattern of earth and sky when the paperwing jerked and slowed to half their former speed.

"You know we can go a bit faster, right?"

"Wasn't me," Lirael replied, sticking a finger up to test the wind. It was holding steady, which left only the paperwing itself as the source of the problem. Lirael leaned over the side to make sure nothing was amiss. The painted eyes, usually so fierce, now looked almost timid, as though they knew they would soon be asked to do something that terrified them.

"Is it raining?" Sam asked, still watching the ground.

"No, it's- It's snowing!" It had been too long since she'd last seen snow. The flakes got larger, falling more and more frequently, and Lirael realized her memory hadn't done it justice. If she knew anything, though, this would soon turn into an all-out blizzard.

Lirael quickly whistled down as much of the howling gale as she could. Though there was still a good amount of wind, she managed to bring the paperwing to a bumpy but safe landing.

"Not to discredit you, Lirael, but how are we going to survive in this? I didn't see any villages on the way down."

She frowned for a moment before recalling something. "I think there's a forest in that general direction," she said, pointing somewhere to their left. "We could try to reach it. The trees should block most of the snow, maybe even the wind."

"How far away is it?"

"I don't know," Lirael admitted. "But it was still within sight before we landed, and with this storm, that can't be far away."

"We'd better start walking then. The sooner we're out of this, the better." Sam hopped out of the paperwing, shadowed by Lirael. He tried to take off at a fast jog, but sunk into the snow on the second step. Lirael stepped out of the paperwing's wake more carefully, but met the same fate. It seemed they were doomed to cold feet.

Luckily, it wasn't far to the tree line. Within a hundred steps, they could make out a green blur among the snowflakes. They only realized how blurry the snow had made it until Sam found a bit of a fir tree tickling his nose. Lirael still couldn't see him clearly, and bumped into him, causing Sam to tumble into the branch. After getting a good whiff of the wood, he hoisted himself out of the prickly foliage.

"Watch my back, would you?"

Lirael smiled at the frail joke. Reaching the forest had given both a glimmer of hope. Now if only they had a fire... "You didn't happen to bring a bit of flint, did you?"

"I don't think so," Sam replied, "but I'll check anyway. Maybe the sendings packed something."

"I doubt it," she said. "We were supposed to be floating down the Ratterlin, nice and toasty." Despite her doubts, she checked her own pack. It had weighed her down with every step, but perhaps now it would help her out a bit in return. Contrary to her concerns, she found a small piece of flint near the bottom of the bag. Lirael gathered up a few small twigs and cast some sparks on them. They fizzled out immediately, and she sighed. She tried thrice more before hurling the largest stick into a nearby tree.

"Lirael." It was more the sudden pop than the sound of her name that got her to turn around. Behind her, Sam was standing by a roaring bonfire. "How...?" Her mouth gaped open in mute wonder for a moment before she had the presence of mind to close it.

"Gasoline," he answered simply. "Of course, there's no vehicles here to use it in, but it still works as a fire starter."

"That's a bit of an understatement. I couldn't even get sparks to hold."

"That's because those twigs were soaked. Still, it wouldn't have survived long in the wind."

"What did happen to the wind? It was about to blow my coat off just a moment ago."

Sam's shoulders slumped for an instant, and a chill wind blew over the camp. "It's rather like a weather working spell, but in reverse. It's a little complicated, but if it keeps the cold out..." He shrugged before recovering his concentration. The flames roared again, and he wished for a marshmallow. It must have been close to ten years since he'd had one. They were strictly an Ancelstierrian delight; he'd yet to see them north of the Wall. Charter knew his sister could probably find someone capable of making them, but he wasn't about to put up with her for that. Besides, it was just the fire's crackling that made the idea so tempting.

He looked down and noticed the snow had entirely disappeared within the borders of his protective bubble. He sunk to his knees and added a mark to hold the spell while he slept. Lirael had dozed off somewhere in the middle of his thoughts, and he decided he had earned the privilege several times over. The barrier would keep out snow, wind, wolves... He fell asleep still listing the dangers.

†††

The flash of color he'd been following leaped and vanished. The hunter sighed and released his grip on the hard oak of his bow. No meat tonight, then. Just more of Vannah's so-called stew. It tasted more like a bunch of boiled-down vegetables. The stuff was at least half-decent with a bit of meat though. Right at the end of summer, it could even be called delicious. But now, in the dad of winter, it was downright awful.

The color flared again. Perhaps he did still have a chance for a good meal. He crept closer, firmly gripping the bow once more. Moving quickly from tree to tree he approached the clearing where his prey awaited him. When he reached the last bit of cover available, he cautiously peeked out from the brush to get a good sight on his quarry. And there, to his extreme disappointment, was a fire. He sighed. At least he could warm his hands. Perhaps whoever had built the bonfire would have a scrap of meat they'd be willing to share. As he crept closer, the hunter grew certain that these people did not have a thing, much less food. They were sprawled on the sparse area of ground the fire's heat had cleared of snow, and were bedraggled as a newborn. But, they could be useful. Slaves were not a new concept to his village. He stepped forward again, bow forgotten, hands now on the rope he used as a belt. They were just out of reach now. He leaned forward, stretched a hand out to grasp the man's leg, and screamed.

Pain shot up his arm. Tremendous, horrible pain that felt like he was being burned, frozen, and and struck by lightning all at the same time. It travelled the course of his body, and more kept coming. He wanted to run away, to escape the cause of this torture, but iron bands had secured his hand around the stranger's leg. This would be his deathbed. He would stand here forever, doomed to die by the very thing that had so mercilessly slaughtered these two people. He closed his eyes, awaiting death. The ankle he was holding twitched. He screamed all the harder.

†††

Sam woke with a star. Someone was screaming. Lirael... But no. This was a man's shriek, high and tortured. There was something holding his leg. The barrier! He jerked around to see the would-be attacker. The pained shriek had turned to a scream of horror. Lirael was up now. He could hear her stirring even as he silenced the intruder and changed the spell to end his torture.

"What did you do to him?" Lirael's voice was groggy and quiet, but clearly concerned for the man.

"It was a minor pain spell. Just to let him know what he was meddling with."

"Minor?" the stranger questioned. "I thought I was going to die!" Lirael frowned at Sam.

"On the other hand, I have been known to overpower things." The frown deepened.

The hunter gathered enough courage to speak again. "Why are you here? With your powers, what could you want of us?"

"Us?" Lirael looked around suspiciously.

"My village, of course. Were you not going there?"

"No... We were caught in the blizzard and took cover under these trees. We thought there weren't any villages for miles. Is it near?"

"Yes, very. It's only ten minutes' walk from here. You should come back with me. We could offer you a bed and food for the night. I'm not sure whether you could tell in that storm, but it's already late afternoon."

"No, we couldn't. I guess it would be a good idea to go then," she said.

"Good. Follow me."

They fell into an easy rhythm, with Lirael and Sam stepping in the hunter's footsteps to avoid getting more snow in their boots. After a few minutes, Sam sped up to walk beside Lirael so he could whisper in her ear. "What if they're cannibals?"

"Then he'd have brought us back cooked. We'll be fine. Who knows, maybe they'll even have a forge."

Sullenly, Sam waited for Lirael to pass him again and dropped back into his spot in line.

†††

"Eldrin, this is a far cry from a deer. We need more food, not people to feed!"

"I told you, Vannah, these people can do more for us than any food. They could sweep away the snow from our paths, light the forge, and the cast cast powerful protection spells" He wrung his hands at the memory.

"W-Wait," Sam stuttered. "Did you say forge?"

"Yes. Our forge is the hottest for a fifty miles. We don't see many people from the south, but I'd be willing to bet it's better than theirs, too," he stated pridefully.

"Could we use it? We came to this area looking for just that - a good forge."

"Eldrin thought for a moment. "I suppose-" He was cut off by Vannah's hand a millimeter in front of his mouth. "You may use it, if..."

**A/N** HehHeh--I just learned how completely ignorant I can be at times. While I was typing this chapter, I noticed something odd. Lirael, Sam, Nick, and Mogget were all in the air after leaving the steps, but only Sam and Lirael came back down in the original writing. I left poor Nick in a paperwing in the middle of a blizzard! Thank goodness for commas to get him out of such things!


	26. The Far North

"....if you light it yourself and put one of your protection spells around the village."

Sam's mouth dropped open. "The _whole_ village?"

"Did you not understand me the first time? Yes, the whole village! If you need our forge badly enough, you will do it." The old woman was the embodiment of the proverbial iron hand in a velvet glove.

"Does the village have a Charter stone?"

"I don't know what you're yammering about, but there are plenty of stones in the village."

"Evidently not," Sam muttered.

"What about people like us?" Lirael asked after a sudden thought struck her. "People who cast enchantments?"

Vannah rolled her eyes. "If we did, would we be asking you to do this?" A light flashed behind eyes as grey as her hair. "There is a man who walks about mumbling strange words, and sometimes strange things happen around him. If he is what you're looking for,fine. If not, we have no one who can help you."

Sam was about to give her a smart reply, but Lirael tugged him outside. "We need to find this madman. If there is a Charter stone here, he will be the only one who can tell us where it is."

He nodded. It'll go faster if we split up. Whistle if you find him."

"Alright then. I'll see you in an hour or so." Fifteen minutes later, Lirael was wishing that madman would hurry up and show up. It had been a long time since she gone wandering in strange place without a companion, and she felt like a spy, or worse. Ten minutes after that, she was sure that was exactly what everybody thought she was. Of course, that could just be because someone was walking very quickly towards her, muttering something under his breath. She wanted nothing more than to turn and run, but that would only make her seem more suspicious. Lirael set it firmly in her ind that she would quicken her stride just the tiniest bit and walk right past him, perhaps even brushing his shoulder.

But things always turn out better in our imaginations, and her slightly quicker stride was nearly an all-out sprint. A hand grabbed her shoulder as she casually bumped into him. She turned her head just in time to see his other hand coming towards her face, and turned back around as fast as she could. She wasn't fast enough, and his hand contacted her forehead with a resounding _smack._ She never heard it though, as she was lost in the endless patterns of the Charter. She came back to earth, immediately whistling the tune Sam had taught her. The hand slapped down on her mouth. "Do you _want _them to think you're mad, too?"

Lirael cut off mid-tune. She certainly didn't need any more attention than she already had. Now that she thought of it, the sudden stop would probably make Sam hurry. If he had even had enough time to figure out where she was, at any rate.

†††

Sam heard the beginning of the tune they agreed to communicate with. After only a few notes, it was silenced. The worst possibility immediately sprang to his mind. Lirael had been shot. But there were no guns here, and the impact of an arrow would have caused a sudden jerk in the pitch of the final note. The only thing for it was to find her. The noise had come from almost directly to his left. He ran like mad that way, jumping any fence or animal separating him from Lirael. He was about to duck beneath yet another set of strung-up clothes when a hand grabbed his collar, jerking him backwards and into a , Lirael sat at a table, looking very much pleased with herself. "Excellent time, Sameth. I was hoping the sudden stop would get you here faster."

"Are you suggesting that the cut-off was intentional? Because if it was…" He let the end hang threateningly.

"No! Of course not! But after the fact, that was when I started hoping that. After he clapped that huge hand over my mouth." She gestured to the fellow still holding Sam's collar, who released it meekly.

"Sorry, but you were moving too fast for me to get a good grip on your shoulder. At any rate, I think I'm the person you're looking for, by her description, flattering as it is." His voice held a sarcastic tone much like Mogget's. Pity the cat wasn't here; the two would b fast friends.

"You're a madman, then?"

"I suppose."

"And strange things happen because of your mutterings?"

"If I should take 'strange' to mean useful," he continued in his unwitting impersonation of Mogget. "I expect you'll be asking me whether I work by Charter or Free Magic next, to which the answer is Charter Magic. Now, if you would please get tot he root of the matter, I have a wholly unsullied reputation to protect."

"Does your village have a CHarter Stone?"

He laughed. "My village has no need of a Charter Stone. The area from whence my mother came is where I place my true allegiance, though the do not honor it. This area, however, does."

"Does what? Honor it? Or posses a Stone?"

"both."

Sam sighed. This guy was sounding more like the fiend he'd hoped to leave far behind with every word.

The man strode away, but paused at the outlet of the alley. "Coming?"

Lirael attempted to make conversation along the way. Every answer was met with a uniform, monotone reply. "What's your name?"

"Nordale."

"Where are you from?"

"Nowhere."

"You have to be from somewhere!"

"I was born in the sky. You tell me where that is."

"You can't have been born in the sky. There's no paperwings but ours this far north."

He stopped to stare her straight in the eye. "I was born in the sky." He turned on his heel and took a brisker pace.

Lirael made a mental note to ask someone else later. Vannah would probably know. She cringed. Vannah was one person she did not want to talk to. 'But,' she thought, 'the only other person we know here is Eldrin, and he's too much of a loner to know what on earth this fellow is talking about.'

Lost in her thoughts, Lirael kept walking a few steps past where Sam and Nordale stopped. A rough hand grabbed the back of her collar. She was growing more and more certain that he had meant to nearly choke Sam.

"Thanks," Sam said. "You can go now. We should be able to create the barrier with the help of the Stone."

"Wait," Lirael whispered in his ear. "He is strong, very much so for one not of the Blood."

"We don't ned him yet, and he will only resent it if we waste his time with this."

"Whatever you say. You're the caster." She moved to sit on another large stone. Sam grabbed her arm. "You, however, will be required. Put one hand on the Stone and give me the other."

Lirael did as she was told, and instantly felt her energy heavily drained. Had she not had a hand on the Stone, she would have collapsed on the spot. The spell must have been more draining than Sam claimed. Then again, perhaps the sheer size of it had made the difference. Whatever the cause, it was still a short spell, and Sam let Lirael's hand fall back to her side within the minute. He stumbled towards a nearby stump and collapsed onto it.

"That...was big."


	27. Family

While Sam heated, shaped, and put the bell together, Lirael went to have a chat with Vannah. The woman might make her feel like she was still in a blue dress, but she would certainly know more than anyone else in the village. She tapped lightly on the wooded doorframe before pushing aside the hide that served as a curtain.

Vannah sat on the floor inside, staring intently at the door. "Well, come in the rest of the way! You're letting the cold in."

She did as she was bidden, and sat cross-legged in front of Vannah. "I have some questions for you."

"I didn't think you came for a cup of tea. Get on with it."

Lirael sighed, then took a deep breath, preparing herself to get this conversation over with as soon as possible.

"Where did Nordale come from?"

"Tried to talk to him, did you?" she mocked. "I suppose he told you that he didn't belong anywhere, that he was born in the sky. That's why most of the town thinks he's mad." Her ancient figure rocked with laughter. "What they don't know is that he's telling the truth."

'Wonderful, Lirael thought, 'she's senile.'

"I'm not either," she said in response to the unspoken thought, "I saw him come down with his mother in a paper falcon."

"Who was his mother? Is she still here?"

"You might say she is. It depends on how you think of your dead. Her name had something to do with air, and it had almost the same ending as yours."

"Arielle? Was her name Arielle?"

"Yes I do believe it was. Is she of some importance to you? Too bad if she is though, since, as I said, she's dead." But her words fell on deaf walls, for Lirael had already flown back through the door.

†††

It had been less than fifteen minutes since Nordale had left them by the stone. He couldn't have gotten far yet. Lirael ran haphazardly through the streets, narrowly dodging anyone foolish enough to wander into her path. Just at the edge of town, she caught a glimpse of him slipping, quite calmly, into the forest. A few more quick strides had her walking easily beside him. "You could have told me."

He met her with a glare that chilled her soul more than death ever had. "Told you what?"

"That you were my brother, of course!"

One foot stopped an inch above the thick blanket of snow. "She was your mother as well?"

"Of sorts. She left the Glacier before I turned five."

Nordale snorted. "She didn't even last that long here. I think it was the cold that finally got her. She passed into the river in my third winter."

"Oh." Though she'd known Arielle was dead for years, learning the cause of her demise made it that much worse. She decided to try another subject. "Where are you going?"

His answer was short, simple, and utterly devastating. "To her grave."

Lirael didn't know what it was that pulled her onward. Perhaps it was the need to know her mother had a peaceful resting place. Maybe she just needed to be certain that her body hadn't been chucked uncaringly into the snow. Whatever it was, it was satisfied when she saw the humble grave marker, adorned by three slender white flowers laying atop the snow. She bent to touch one. "What are these?"

"Snow lilies," he said, a new, caring note in his voice. "One of the few flowers that grow out here, and her favorite of those that do."

There could be no doubt who the 'her' was. Lirael continued to sit in the snow, fingertips grazing the last reminders of her lost parent. A jubilant shout tore her from her reverie, and she ran, tears stinging her eyes, back to the village.

†††

At the forge, Sam had finished recreating Yrael. The bell seemed to know that better than he did, as its form became fluid as soon as he'd formed the silver to hold the toucan bill handle in place. The metal held true, but its size was continually shifting. One moment he had to use both hands to support it, and the next it was so tiny he didn't know which hand he held it in. A thought crossed his mind that made him smile. Mogget was going to have a lot of explaining to do.


	28. A Bell Grabbing Blob

Lirael and Sam returned to find the House in near destruction. Perhaps that was a bit of an exaggeration, but it was the first word on Lirael's mind when she saw the kitchen.

"What... happened?!?" she asked, wondering just how long it had taken for her abode to go from more than decent to... drippy. Yes, drippy was certainly the word to describe it.

Various colors of jelly hung suspended from every imaginable surface. Even Nick, grinning innocently in the room's center, was covered in the sticky stuff.

"Well, you see, Alina was teething."

Lirael raised an eyebrow. Babies her age could cause a lot of damage, but nowhere near this much.

"I thought peanut butter would keep her busy." He laughed weakly. "And who likes peanut butter without jelly?" A glob fell from the tip of his nose and splattered on the wooden floor. "It was going fine. But the sendings wanted to help."

†††

Nick continued to explain how he and the wayward sending had all but wrestled over the jar, eventually causing it to burst and send its contents flying, but Millane didn't care. For the first time sincce her transformation, she was perfectly disguised. She smiled as Sam left the bell on a convenient counter so she could pick up his daughter. She didn't know what type of jelly could possibly be such a pale, sickly green color, but it provided the perfect cover as she crept closer to the instrument. At last, she was upon the bell. She grasped the handle, and made her escape with it. But she'd only gone a few tiny steps before the bell resized again, leaving her stranded as a jelly splotch on the slick silver.

†††

Sam straightened, Alina cradled over his shoulder, and reached for the bell again. Such things couldn't be left lying about. His hand closed over Millane and he jumped, nearly dropping the baby who'd begun to chew on a fold of his shirt. "Ugh! There's jelly on this! How-" He looked up, searching for the spot on the ceiling the jelly must have fallen form. Strangely, this area seemed to have entirely escaped form the rest of the room's doom. The only sticky stuff around was that under his fingers. It squished and spread to coat the underside of his whole hand. Sam grit his teeth and hoisted the bell, which had once again grown exponentially. He hated sticky things. This would have to be washed off with good, hot water. Sadly, the kitchen only had a cold tap. He'dhave to take it to a bedroom and wash it in the sulfuric water. Sam sighed, wishing there was a way he could get rid of the stickiness without that dreadful smell. Though not from lack of effort, he utterly failed to come up with a method before he reached the bedroom. He put the bell under the faucet, preparing himself for the scalding water that would hit his hand with just as much heat as it did the bell.

He jerked the bronze wheel and steam poured out. Of course, that was only the harbinger. The water came next, stinging his hand from two sides as the rubbed at the rapidly heating bell.

†††

This... was the ultimate torture. She was smothering, boiling, and being crushed, all at once. She had to keep this shape. She had to. If she flinched in the slightest, her face would show and the gigwould be up. Then the water hit, and she screamed.

†††

Sam scanned the room. The shriek had echoed off the walls, so whoever caused it must still be in the room. But nobody was there... Could the bell have made that sound? He jerked his head back towards it, whacking his nose on the handle in the process. And there, below his nose, was the jelly. Not only had it failed to come off, but Sam could have sworn that the spot had actually grown. Now that he looked at it closely, it didn't even look that much like jelly. And there, in the center, was something that very closely resembled a face. He peered closer still. Was that... it couldn't be. And yet, it was. Somehow, Millane had found her way into the house. He plucked her off the bell and held her close to his nose to assure himself that it was indeed her. He was as certain of thaat as he could ever be when she spit in his eye.

Sam dropped her to scrub it out, and when he opened his eyes, she was nowhere to be found. He overturned every loose article in the room before dashing into the hall. There, creeping under a door, was just the blobhe had in mind. He opened it, realizing just before he grabbed her that the door led to the kitchen. Had she gotten even an inch farther, he never would have found her amid all the other blobs. But now she was in his grasp, and he knew exactly where he wanted her.

After a good five minutes of breaking spells he'd laid himself years ago, Sam opened the door to the cellar. He pitched Millane into the waiting darkness and slammed the door.

"So," a deep voice called from the far corner of the cellar. "What are you in for?"


	29. Final Preparations

Mogget's head butted against Nicholas's leg insistently. "You. Must. Get. In. The. Paperwing!" The last was punctuated by a sharp nip to the heel that made Nick jump into the aforementioned vessel. Mogget leaped in behind him. "Take off. Then listen carefully. You will need to know your role precisely if we are to succeed.

"What do you mean, my role?"

"You will be the one ringing the bell."

"What?!?"

"You are the only one with even a trace of Orannis in their blood. Thus you must be the one to ring it."

"But I don't know anything about ringing bells! That's Lirael's job!"

"It's yours now, and you would know all you need to if you would only listen instead of trying to argue with me. You won't win anyway."

"Fine. Get on with it."

"I'm glad you've come to see the light. Now, pay attention. As you know, the bell's shape changes constantly. I'll only be able to stop that for a second, so you'll have to ring the bell the moment you hear me yowl. Lirael will be sounding Saraneth at the same time, so don't get distracted."

"Right. When do we do this?"

"Now."

Sure enough, the paperwing was going down. At least it would be a smooth landing this time. Everything was still flat from the first time they'd dealt with Orannis. Ahead, Lirael and Sam were already disembarking. "Remind me again why he's here?" Nick requested.

"The only reason we created my bell was so we could obtain Orannis's silver to make his," the cat replied. "Sam will be the one to run and get it, since you two will still be ringing."

"And Orannis?"

"Will be free. But," he said as Nick started to panic, "he won't be anywhere near as powerful as he was. If he tries to be, he'll go mad."

"Will that be before or after he kills us?"

"Hopefully before. If it is after, though, we can at leas die knowing Orannis went down with us."

"You're such a comfort, Mogget."

Lirael and Sam were already sprinting down the hill towards the silver hemispheres. Nick knew they must be as anxious as he himself was. They did, after all, each have their respective jobs. He laughed low in his throat, halting it before it came bubbling out of his mouth. He wouldn't trade Sam jobs for a thousand silver deniers. The current one was quite enough, thank you.

The sound of Saraneth's deep voice snapped his mind back to his work just in time for him to hear Mogget yowl hideously. As horrible as it sounded, the bell he held finally stopped shifting and began to vibrate, tickling his palm. Nick took charge of the bell, forcing the clapper to slide smoothly along the interior curves of the bell.

Combined with Saraneth, it created a sound unlike any other. It was low, but had a high note hidden beneath the low overtones. Nick could feel his bones resonate, and even the trees seemed to shake with the vibrations of the bell. As suddenly as it began, it was over. As things settled back into their natural place, some missing a few leaves or petals, a fault line formed in each of the massive hemispheres.

Sam moved his hands quickly, so fast that Nick would not have known he was weaving a spell if he hadn't been told earlier. After only a few seconds, he slowed.

A reddish-orange gas had begun to waft from the hemispheres that were now raised slightly above the ground. It cascaded to the rusty soil like some sort of volatile water. Sam stepped well away from the growing puddle before continuing the spell. Seconds later he was holding two filmy blue strands that had tied themselves around the silver. He ran towards them, towing the hemispheres effortlessly.

Upon reaching the paperwings, he spoke a few more signs to lash the other ends of the magical ropes to the wings of the aircraft. He threw yak-hide ropes around them too, before he slapped the nose of each,signaling the pilots to take off. Sam leaped into the back of the green and silver one, exchanging places with Nick as it rose into the air.

It was a long flight back to the far north, especially with such a large weight hanging beneath them. When they finally arrived, they had to, ever so carefully, drop the hemispheres into a small meadow by the forge. The paperwings themselves went down a few yards away.

As Sam bent to his work,Lirael disembarked to stretch her legs. Mainly she just wandered around a bit, but her feet inevitably brought her to the forest that held her mother's grave. Hers, and, she told herself, Nordale's. Strange, how she should discover she had a brother only after losing her sister. '_And yet_'' she thought, '_Sabriel may still live. I'm fairly I would have felt it if she had died. But then again, I didn't feel Touchstone's, now, did I?_'

Lost in her miserable musings, Lirael scarcely noticed Vannah emerging from the underbrush. But when the old woman spotted her, she received a glare colder than the surrounding air. She could almost hear the words restrained behind the stony eyes. '_If you _dare_ go near that grave, I'll make sure you don't come back.'_

Small as she was, Lirael held no doubts that Vannah would live up to that promise. She strode quickly away from the path, breaking into a run when she was sure she couldn't be seen. Lirael didn't cease her flight till she was upon the paperwings, not even when she nearly crashing into the last remnants of the hemisphere Sam was welding. Then, breathing hard, she concealed herself between the two vessels.

Sam arrived shortly, towing a massive bell behind him. Forgetting her fears, Lirael ran out to stop him.

"Are you crazy? The bell could sound if you move it like that! You know what will happen if it does!"

Sam nodded solemnly, then showed her how he'd tied cotton and yak hides around the clapper to keep it from striking the sides. She got behind the bell to help maneuver it into position. Once they'd wedged it between the two paperwings, Sam retied the ropes, making sure they wouldn't slip. They again boarded the paper birds, and prepared for flight. Lirael began her whistle. The vessel refused to lift, and one yellow eye rolled back to glare at her. Or, she realized, something behind her. She sat up in the hammock seat and twisted to see the rear of the craft. Clinging to the tail was a rather bewildered looking Vannah.

"Daughter of Ice!" She called, "There is something you must hear!"

Lirael cut off her whistle, letting the spell fade into nothingness. When she was sure the wind wouldn't whip her away, she stepped out of the paperwing. Fully intent on detaching the woman from its tail and leaving as soon as she did so, Lirael had difficulty keeping her stride even rather than stalking towards her. "What," she said through her teeth, "do you want?"

"The cold was not the cause of your mother's death?"

"That's impossible! That was a part of the vision she told Mogget before she left. Their own deaths are the only visions the Clayr see with complete accuracy."

"Oh, not always. Though I have no doubts the cold would have taken her if something else hadn't. But that is not why I bothered to stop you. When I saw you staring towards the forest earlier, I knew you were the one she had told me about. Just before she passed, she had a vision, the likes of which I'd have hated to see. even hearing her describe it was horrible, so I will spare you most of the detail. But here is the essence of it; thrice you will destroy your world, and twice you will save it. Yet the one you can't restore will be the one that means the most to you. But destroy it you must, for if you don't all three shall be lost. That was all she said before she crossed into the dark river. Now go, and remember her final words."

Vannah walked away, untouched by the winds that soon rose to Lirael's call. The paperwings rose into the air, ferrying their burden back to Ancelstierre.


	30. Released!

**Intermission**

Nick cringed. The vaporous puddle was still spreading. Over the last hours, it had expanded to nearly fill the loch. He had a feeling that once it did, The space left to fill was less than what a large mixing bowl would hold. Nick ran further up the hill, taking cover behind an old stone wall. A tremendous boom echoed behind him, and Nick looked back to see thunderheads rising directly from the sea. They were pitch black, illuminated only by the lightning shooting from them to the turbulent waters below. He quickened his uphill dash, sprinting away from the unnatural storm. Thunder coursed across the land again, his bones resonating with the sound. A bolt of lightning struck the Wall,blackening its stones, despite the amount of magic that had been poured into each of them. Another hit right behind him, hurling him onto the ground. His mind was dazed, but the adrenaline pounding through his veins wouldn't let his body stop. Without even realizing it, he'd shot through the Wall's gate. Once on the other side, he collapsed, legs cramping painfully. Nick reached to massage the knots out of his legs, but as soon as the first finger touched the muscle, a voice called threateningly from the other side of the Wall.

"Who dares to steal from us?" The voice contained all the power of an enraged man, but also a woman's deadly hiss. "I'll have your blood, your bones, burn your very soul!"

Cold shivers went down Nick's spine. He had been warned this would happen, he had even agreed to take on the job himself, But all the warnings he'd received paled in comparison with what was happening now. Nick gathered the last scraps of his courage and marched back through the gate.

"I did."


	31. Born of Bells

Sam cursed. The horizon south of the Wall was stained blood-red. If Nick was still alive, he wouldn't last much longer. He whistled the wind to a stronger gale, as he'd been doing the whole trip. It was so fast now that it nearly tore the individual sheets of paper from the sides of the paperwing. But still he pushed it faster, forcing the craft to its very limits. Only one thing kept it together now, and Sam feared that would fail once they crossed the Wall. He didn't allow his thoughts to go any farther. He couldn't think of what would happen if his mission were to fail.

They crossed the Wall, still flying on the ferocious winds. One of the painted eyes tilted back to look scathingly at him. Sam grit his teeth, but did not lessen the gale's force. The eyes really were startling when they were staring straight at you. It was only another mile to the loch, but every second seemed an eternity with that gaze weighing on him. Just as he thought the paperwing would roll and dump him out, Nick came into view. It was the first time he realized just how high up they were. He'd require a mighty wind going almost straight down to land where they had planned. And, much to his dismay, that was exactly what Sam created. The slightest change of a single mark sent the paperwings hurtling toward the ground in a deadly spiral. Seconds before impact, he cast another spell to totally deaden the wind, and a third to create a net below them in case they didn't pull out of the spiral fast enough.

†††

Sam must have gone mad. That was the only explanation for it. They'd already released a tremendously powerful being, and now Sam was going to kill them in a plane crash before they could destroy it. Worse yet, it looked like he was going to crash into Nick! Then, as suddenly as they'd started falling, they stopped. The paperwings came to a complete stop in mid-air, making Lirael's stomach do flip-flops, before righting themselves and gently gliding towards the ground. But the force proved too great on the ropes tying the bell between the paperwings, and they snapped, the precious cargo plummeting to bury itself in the soil.

Lirael jumped from the cockpit before even the nose of the plane touched the earth. Sam was not far behind, and Nick was already beside the bell, trying to knock it out of the dirt.

"Ready then? One,two, three- heave!"

They shoved, and the bell rocked backwards before lightning struck it. All three fell to the ground, stunned.

"Three? A mere group of three thinks to destroy me? Hah! You will be the first to die!" The fine red mist pulled itself into a fairly man-like shape, both too long and too tall. A tentacle-shaped arm struck out at them, toppling all three to the ground again. The bell was hit as well, and finally came out of the dirt, leaving its protective coverings behind. Sam threw a foot under the clapper so it couldn't sound. The metal came down hard on his ankle. He winced, unsure whether it was broken.

Beside him, Nick rolled to avoid another deadly appendage. His new position put him within reach of the behemoth handle,and he knew what he had to do. Nick grabbed it, gathered his strength, and swung.

"No! Not yet!" Lirael lunged to the side, shoving part of her bandolier into Sam's hand and stretching for Nick's as well. She began a spell at the same time, the words flying from her mouth so fast she nearly stumbled over them. Sam joined in, racing towards the finish. Both were shouting marks as the last tones of the bell faded. When all sound was gone, they ceased, and gave each other a knowing look.

"Damn!"

The final sign of their failure came as the ground fell away beneath their feet. Lirael wasn't sure whether she was falling or flying. It didn't really feel like either. It was more like floating. Yes, floating, that was it. Floating in an endless sea of black.

"Sam?" she whispered. No answer came. "Sam!"

"Lirael?" She could hear his voice somewhere to her left, but could't see him. This black was like fog, only not cold or clammy. _'Perhaps...' _Lirael gave an experimental stroke, and soared forward. At least something worked somewhat as it should here. "Sam?" she called again, feeling rather like she was in a ridiculous game of marco-polo.

"Here!" His voice emanated from directly behind her. Then again, perhaps even swimming didn't work the same in the strange void. Nonetheless, she swiveled and let her hands quest through the foggy air. At last, she found a hand to match her own. She pulled him closer, till she could just see him. "Ready?"

"Yes," he replied, but hesitated. "I think." He didn't want to voice what they both knew was true.

"Don't drop it," she instructed needlessly, handing him a bell. She couldn't see which it was, but something about it spoke of Belgaer. She gave him another, which he placed gingerly between his toes. Ranna followed, tinkling softly as she handed it over.

That left four for her. She drew each with the skill of a trained Abhorsen, and hoped she could ring them as well.

"On three?" Sam asked, shocking her nearly enough to make her drop the bells.

"Yes," she replied automatically, and drew a long breath. "One, two," Lirael paused for another breath. "Three."

And for the first time in all of history, the seven necromancer's bells chimed in harmony. And, though none of the bells had been so haphazardly rang before, not one of them sounded a discordant note. In moments, thick black fog faded to thin gray mist, and with the mist came a new dawn. A new dawn that, Lirael thankfully noticed as she fell to the ground, shone down on the same old world it always had. She'd never loved the sight so much. A gasp of pleasure at their success turned to one of pain when something clenched low in her belly. She hit the ground hard, struggling to catch her breath.

"Mother?" The voice was innocent and young, and almost identical to Katrel's before he had been hooked into Orannis's service. She squinted at him, still doubled over, and was shocked to see that it really was her long lost son.

"Are...are you hurt, mom? I could cast something... It won't be strong, but..."

"No," she said with as much motherly strength as she could muster. "Go sit with your father for a minute."

"Dad's dead," he told he, voice laced with the sweetness of childhood despite the grim news.

"Nick's..." Another contraction slammed into her gut. "Your uncle, then. Go find him." She winced again. "And... tell him to come here. Tell him your brother's coming."

Sam came running a few moments later. "Sorry, Sam," she gasped, "but I need you..." she curled into a little ball as the next wave hit, "to be a midwife."

He said nothing, but bent to his latest work. Within the hour, Lirael was resting with not just one, but two new sons, as well as her first.

And so it was that when Lirael finally passed into the river after many more years of battling the dead, there were still three; one to watch the past, another to guard the present, and a third to See the future.

**A/N** And that's it! Thanks to all who stuck with me through tis crazy tale and all its ups and downs. Thanks especially to the reviewers, I can't tell you guys how much it really does mean. And now... Now I'm gone. It's New Year's Eve, after all, and I've got some friends to party with!


End file.
